Spectrum Volume IV: Liberation
by SJO
Summary: A sequel to "Spectrum: Refugees." Gabriel is trying to start an advocacy group for heroes, and Samuel Sullivan seems more than a little interested. Please read and review.
1. So So

Spectrum Volume IV: Liberation

A Heroes/Fringe Fanfic by SJO

Note: "Heroes" is owned by NBC Universal, and "Fringe" is owned by 20th Century Fox, not me. You need to be familiar with my previous volumes of "Spectrum," as well as with "Redemption" from "Heroes." Occasional spoilers from "Fringe" will be put in, but I'm not following that storyline as closely. Unlike my previous Heroes fics, I cannot think of many subplots, so there will probably only be one or two, making a rather straightforward storyline, which may turn out to be good.

Chapter 1: So-so

"There are others like us out there, in the darkness, in the light, each searching for meaning in a world that won't accept them for who they really are. They, like us, are blessed with extraordinary abilities, but they see their blessings as curses, blemishes from keeping them from becoming 'normal.' They, like us, struggle with finding their place in an ordinary world. Yet, they have not seen what we have learned, that 'normal' is an illusion that this ordinary world has created. Every one of them deserves a chance to be themselves, but to what end, for what purpose? Here, in this place, we offer acceptance. We offer love. We offer redemption. And one by one, they will come to our side, to our family, to our home. And all who are gathered will be strong, and all who are gathered will stand together."

At those words, Samuel Sullivan choked back a sob. It wasn't because of the loss of his brother, for he had been maintaining that rather well. His eyes turned and saw the one person, a lonely child, the only one standing apart from the group. He loved that child. He cared very deeply for that child, but the love seemed to come back empty. It seemed all but impossible to make this person a part of the family. Yet, Samuel was never one to use the word "impossible." He hoped, perhaps more than anything, that he could find some go-between so that he could reach this distant part of the family. It had to be that there was someone like that out there.

So he sighed. "I say it's time we found our way back home again." Then he tossed a compass into the grave. "Find your way home, brother."

* * *

Washington D. C., Kojin Sushi Restaurant

"Do I like sushi?" Nathan Petrelli asked.

"You're the one who asked for yellowtail," his mother answered. "I wanted Italian."

Nathan cautiously picked up the fish with his chopsticks and put it in his mouth. "It's interesting."

Angela Petrelli nodded. "Life is about new horizons. It keeps you from getting old."

"Exactly. You know, these last couple of weeks, I've been taking inventory of a lot of things. I feel like there's a lot of . . . I don't know, Ma. Guess there's a lot of change going on with me."

"Really? How so?"

"I don't know. It's like when I look back on my life, it just seems like it's not my life I'm looking back on. You know, actually, I think it all started with Gabriel's question. You remember, in Coyote Sands? He asked me to tell him about his mother. Evidently, I had her as a babysitter at some point. And I promised him I would tell him everything I remembered about her. I still want to do that, but I can't remember a thing. I've been getting headaches trying to recall Ruth Shaw."

"Well, you were little when she did that, Nathan. When I first laid eyes on her, I was holding you in my arms, a month old. You must have been only about five when she offered to watch you when your father took me out."

"But I feel like I had a lot of memories, good memories that I really wanted to tell Gabriel. And now, they're just gone. I feel really bad, like I'm letting that kid down."

"Gabriel will understand."

"I don't know, Ma. I mean, we're talking about a kid who used to compare me to Hitler."

"He's gotten past that, Nathan."

"That's a tough thing to get past. I got to do my part, too. I got to change everything. I want to reconnect with everyone in my life who's important, and this time I'm going to be a better me. But I just feel like I can't do that with Gabriel until I remember something, anything. Ma, can you help me?"

Angela Petrelli leaned back in her seat and tried to think of something to say.

* * *

Boston, Massachusetts

After what seemed like an hour, the nurse came back to the hospital room. "Well, all the tests came back normal."

The patient cringed.

"What's the matter? That's good news."

"_Je suis desole," _(I'm sorry) he replied. "It's that word, 'normal.' I hate that word."

An African American woman with him patted his arm reassuringly. "Gabe, in this instance, there is such a thing as normal, and it's a good thing."

"I know, Astrid, it's just . . . "

"Well, the bottom line is, you didn't have a heart attack," the nurse spoke up again. "We see no damage to your heart whatsoever. Your cholesterol is excellent, and you're in perfect shape."

"Then why does it hurt?"

"Why don't you describe the pain for me again?"

"I told you! It's so bad, I can feel my heart in my chest. I can trace it with my finger. I'm aware of the chambers, the ventricles."

"Yes, but the pain? How strong is the pain?"

"It came so suddenly. It felt so sharp, like someone stabbed me with a knife."

"Does it still feel like a knife in your chest?"

"Well . . . _non_, now it feels like . . . a bad cut that's healing. The pain's still so bad, it's all I can think about. But it isn't as strong now."

"Gabe, how are you feeling?"

"I told you! My heart hurts!"

"I mean, emotionally, how are you feeling? Are you sad? Angry? Scared?"

"Astrid had a word for it earlier today. It was a strange phrase I had not heard before. I think it was 'or-or.'"

"Or-or?"

"He means 'so-so,'" Astrid broke in.

"_Oui_, I knew it was two repeated conjunctions," Gabe nodded.

"Okaaaay," the nurse said. "So you felt that way before any of this happened?"

"That's right."

"And are you still feeling so-so right now?"

"I don't see any reason why I should feel any differently. I guess I am a little scared and frustrated. But overall, I am in-between happy and sad."

"Gabe, did something happen to bring about this emotion? Something traumatic?"

"Not really."

Astrid scoffed. "'Not really'?" She looked at the nurse. "A guy was killed right in front of him. Gabe tried to save his life, but it didn't work. I understand they were pretty close friends."

He looked at her angrily. "This has nothing to do with that!"

"Gabe, you don't just get over something like that."

"Well, I did! I have been 'over' Monsieur Rains's death for weeks now. He wanted to die. He told me so. He told me he always had nightmares. He doesn't have nightmares anymore, does he?"

The nurse cleared her throat. "They say the first step in the grieving process is denial. Perhaps you've been denying your own grief, and it hit you out of the blue."

"_Non_, I don't think so."

"Well, is there anything else?"

Gabe sighed and shook his head. "I don't know. I just . . ."

She sat down and looked at him. "Well, bottom line, I think this is not so much physiologically based as it is emotionally based. Perhaps for that, you need counseling."

"You're saying that seeing a shrink will fix my heart?"

"It will be 'fixed' in time, but seeing a counselor will definitely help it recover."

"So there's nothing you can do? No prescription?"

"Sorry, Gabe, there's no quick fix for this kind of deal, but it will go away eventually. Please sign out before you leave."

Astrid and Gabriel both thanked her. The nurse left, Astrid followed, and Gabriel started to follow, but then he heard a voice behind him. "Nothing to do with it?" He turned around and saw Claude Rains standing behind him the room. "Oh, that hurt. That cut _me _to the quick, mate!"

Gabe just looked contentiously at him. "What are you, a ghost now?"

"I don't think so. Ghosts usually have some mark on them about how they died, and I . . ." he searched all around his person, "don't see any scars or anything. In fact, I don't think I've looked this good in a long time, don't you?"

"Well, you can't be real."

"Of course, I can't." But then he grinned while looking at Gabe with a raised eyebrow. "Or can I?"

Gabe reached out to touch Claude's nose, but the young man's finger went right through his face. "Nope. I think you're a figment of my imagination." He sighed and sat back down on the cot. "Just what I need, my imagination running away with me, making me look crazy."

Claude shrugged. "Hey, that's what I do."

"So, did you have something to do with this?"

"Oh, so now you're accusing me of stabbing you in the heart! Right, I see how it is."

"I thought you just . . . look, if I'm grieving over you, that's what the shrink is going to want to talk all about, and I don't want to discuss something that's not a problem and waste my time again. So, did you?"

Claude sat down beside him and took a deep breath. "No."

Gabe paused for a moment because he thought Claude might say more, but when he didn't, he said, "Well, do you know what is doing this, and what I can do about it?"

He answered softly, "I think you'll sort it out. You're brilliant, you know."

Gabe scoffed. "That doesn't sound like something you'd say."

Claude didn't answer.

"Well it doesn't!" Gabe said angrily as he turned to him, but Claude was gone.

"Hey, Gabe, what's taking you?" Astrid said impatiently as she stood in the doorway.

Gabe sighed and got off the cot. "I'm coming."

"Who were you talking to?"

"No one, I was just thinking aloud." Astrid gave him an odd look. "There's nothing wrong with that. Dr. Bishop does it all the time!" She just gave him an odder look and walked back to the waiting room.

* * *

Early the next morning, after a quick breakfast, Gabe went to the lab. Sometimes he was the first person there (if Dr. Bishop hadn't beaten him to it), but today there was someone else hunched over a microscope. Gabe couldn't believe who it was, but as he came close he could see him clearly. "Mohinder?"

The young, Indian scientist looked up, turned to Gabe, and smiled. "How are you, Gabriel?"

"What are you doing here?"

"Well, I just wanted to see what you were up to, the nature of your research."

"But how did you get clearance? And where have you been all this time? I've been trying to contact you for weeks!"

Mohinder, however, turned back to the microscope. "This is truly fascinating work. And you came up with this?"

"Well, me and Dr. Bishop, but that doesn't answer–"

"Gabriel, this is monumental. Actually, not just this. I understand that you are advocating for the rights of those with abilities."

"Well, I am trying to get a group together. That's why I've been trying to contact you. I need–"

"That's awesome, Gabriel. You know, I wouldn't be surprised at all if you won the Nobel before I do."

"Um, I actually find that hard to believe, because you've been doing this for longer, and you know so much more than me."

"I think you'd be surprised. You are a seed, Gabriel. It's your turn to grow."

Gabe was trying to search for a way to answer this when the door opened. It was Dr. Bishop. "Ah! You're here, Jeremiah!"

"Gabe," he answer. For some reason, Dr. Bishop always got Gabe's name wrong. Astrid told him that this was a sign that the doctor liked him because it took forever to pin down her name. Gabe liked to think that. He gestured over. "Dr. Bishop, you always told me that Suresh sounded like a familiar name, so here is . . . " But as he turned around, Mohinder was gone.

"What is it?"

Gabe shook his head. "Nothing."

A little later, Agent Dunham came in, and she approached Gabe. "Hey Gabe, do you like bowling?"

He shrugged. "Not much. I'm not good at it, and it is very noisy."

"Well, I'm going to take Peter and Astrid bowling. Maybe you can come at least watch, man the jukebox, keep score."

"I'll pass."

"OK, uh, there's someone who's usually at the bowling alley who I think will be able to help you with your problem."

"He's a shrink?"

"Well, kinda. He got me through a rough patch, both physically and psychologically. I don't know exactly what his title is, but it worked. I know counselors are usually very expensive. To see him would only cost the shoe rental fee. What would you rather do?"

"I'd rather talk to him in a place outside a bowling alley."

She laughed. "Well, I'll see what I can do."

* * *

They ended up going to the bowling alley anyway. Gabe looked around anxiously. "So, where is he?"

"I'll introduce you in a bit," Agent Dunham answered. "Go ahead and pay for your shoes. I got my own. I'll meet you over there."

"Wait a minute," Gabe called after her, but she was already gone.

He turned to a man with curly hair and a beard who looked very impatient sitting behind the counter. "So, what's your size, kid?" he said.

"Actually, monsieur, I'm not sure. I'm not used to the American system."

"Coulda fooled me. Well, I got one of those foot sizers."

"Actually, I would really rather not bowl. I'm just looking for someone here"

"I'm going to get it just in case."

Gabe turned around and looked at all the blinking lights, the people playing, drinking beer. All the loud music and the buzzing, fluorescent lights made him very uncomfortable. Someone bowled a strike, and the loud noise of the clattering pins made him cringe and hold his ears. Yet then he heard a sound that he found more inviting. "_YATTA!" _Startled, Gabe saw at the front of one of the lanes a man holding his fists above his head.

He ran toward the victor. "Hiro?"

The man turned around, and it was his friend. "Gabriel! Good to see you!"

"What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I love bowling! One of my favorite places in Tokyo is a restaurant and bowling alley. They serve chicken and waffles."

"Strange combination."

Hiro picked up a bowling ball and handed it to Gabe. "Here. Why don't you take a shot?"

"I'm, um, not wearing the right shoes."

"I won't tell if you won't." Gabe made a face at his friends suggestion of dishonesty, but Hiro continued to offer the ball to him. "Go on!"

Gabe finally grinned. "Alright, I'll do it, but only if you'll stop time after I throw it and kick the pins down."

Hiro laughed. "That's funny, Gabriel!"

Gabe's smile faded. "I'm serious. That's probably the only chance I'll have of winning this game."

"Is that right?" a voice said behind him. Gabe turned and saw the man from the counter with the thing to measure foot size.

"Oh, uh, _je suis desole, monsieur._ I just saw my friend here, and I got carried away in talking to him."

"What friend? Did he just go to the men's room?"

Gabe turned around again, and Hiro was gone. He groaned. "I can't believe I fell for it again."

"I can. That's why they're called delusions. They're deluding."

Gabe turned back at the man. "Are you the shrink?"

"I like to think I'm rather tall, thank you."

"I mean, the psychologist."

The man extended his hand to him. "Sam Weiss. Agent Dunham told me about you."

"How can you be the shrink? You own a bowling alley!"

"Where does it say I can't?"

"Well, I thought you're supposed to conduct sessions in a quiet, peaceful place." Another strike, and Gabe cringed again.

"Oh, you want more privacy? No problem."

* * *

"Comfy?"

Gabe was sitting (just sitting) on the closed seat of a toilet in the men's room with the stall door open as Sam cleaned out the sinks and urinals. "Don't you have a couch or something?"

"Oh, you want to lay down? Well, there's a booth out there that's pretty cushy. Might have a couple of pieces of gum stuck to it, but . . ."

"_Non, non_, I'd rather be in here than out there. There's just too much going on."

"I see. It's not a really conducive environment for an autistic, huh?"

"Yeah. I was getting close to sensory overload."

"I could tell you weren't comfortable. I know a smelly bathroom isn't much better, but I hope it works. Alright, Gabe, what you first need to realize that what you're going through is perfectly normal."

Gabe groaned. "_Non_, don't say such things."

Sam smiled and pointed at him. "I like that! I like that a lot! You may be the smartest person who's ever come here. 'Cause you're right; what is normal? Is it normal for a guy like me to own a bowling alley?" Gabe rolled his eyes. "Maybe I should just say, it's typical, expected. Everybody gets a broken heart sometimes."

"But it's not broken! The doctors said it's in perfect shape."

"Well, in an emotional sense, it is. The question is why. Now, Olivia told me–"

"If you're going to bring up my friend who died right before my eyes, forget it. I did some soul searching, and this has nothing to do with it."

"Alright, fine."

"What?"

"You say something's off limits, it's off limits. No problem. So, how's your folks?"

"My folks?"

"Yeah, you know. Mom, Dad, family."

"Well, my mother died when I was just a baby, and I don't remember her. As for Papa . . . you know, I haven't seen him since the funeral."

"The funeral? You mean, your friend's funeral?"

"That's right."

"And that was how long ago?"

"A couple of months."

"See? There you have it. You're feeling down in the dumps because your father isn't around to hold your hand anymore. And again, that's completely . . . understandable. Hey, that's how I felt my first year or two in college. It's liberating, but it's intimidating."

"I don't think that's it either. You know, I was worried when Papa was gone when I first came here, but that was because I didn't know where he was and there were people hunting him down. I think he can take care of himself. I always thought he went back to Paris."

"Well, whatever it is, I think it's obvious to me that you're lonely."

Gabriel sat back. "I think you're right."

"Of course. That explains the delusions of your friends. You miss them."

"You know, I've always been kinda lonely but never this lonely. I mean, it feels almost like someone's torn out a part of my soul."

"It happens. But it'll go away. It always does. What you need in the meantime is some little project to take your mind off of it, something to help you relax and forget your loneliness. Something like . . ."

"Taking care of pigeons?"

"That's an unusual hobby, but it would probably work. Is that what you want to do?"

"Not really. What do you suggest?"

"Ah, you wouldn't like my suggestion."

"It's bowling."

"Yes, it's bowling. But bottom line is, you gotta find out what works for you, what makes you feel good. And make sure it's productive and healthy, not like overeating or drinking. Just anything that if you do it for long enough, it will take those blues off of ya. You know something like that?"

* * *

That evening when he got back to his dorm room, Gabe pulled out of the drawer of his bedside table a button that was handed to him in a dream. Just a few months ago, Dr. Bishop put him in a deep sleep with some drugs. Gabe dreamed that he went to a parallel universe. He saw a protest with many of his friends fighting for their rights. The group, strangely enough, was led by Sylar. It was such an inspirational sight that Gabe decided this is what he wanted to do with his life. The button was his evidence that the dream was real. He still couldn't understand how he was wearing it when he woke up. Dr. Bishop explained it to him, but that just made Gabe sorry he asked.

"This should be my project," he said softly to himself. "It's time I got this started somehow. It's just too bad this group doesn't exist here. Wait a minute." Just under the words "Mind Over Matter" was a website address in small type: . "Maybe it does. It's worth a try anyway." He opened up his laptop and typed the address in. He got an error message. So he went on Yahoo, Google, Ask, and Bing, typing into each website the acronym. No luck. He even tried looking it up through Wikipedia, but that did nothing. "I bet Wiki could find it, or Micah. I'll talk to them tomorrow."

"What's the point?" someone asked. He turned and saw Claude sitting on his bed. "Gabriel, let's be realistic. We're never going to be recognized or celebrated for what we can do. Even if we fight for it, we'll just be making a lot of noise. Besides, how are you going to get all these people together anyway? You can't drive, can you?"

Gabe didn't answer him, thinking maybe the best way to deal with these delusions was to ignore them, like John Nash did in _A Beautiful Mind. _Gabe shut down the computer, lay down on his bed, and turned off the light. But he couldn't sleep. He just couldn't concentrate because some of the things that Claude said were true, and his mind continued to elaborate on them.

* * *

As Gabe walked across the campus around noon the next day, someone stopped him in his tracks. "Hey, Gabriel."

"Peter Petrelli?" Gabe looked at him very closely, examining him from his feet to his head. "Is it really you?"

"Yeah, I was just in the neighborhood, and I thought . . . you want to do lunch?"

"Do . . . lunch?"

"Yeah, do you want to go out to eat? I'm craving for clam chowder. It's Boston's specialty, you know. And since you're in the area, I thought I might check in with you." Gabriel reached up to touch his face, but Peter backed away. "Whoa! What are you doing?"

"Making sure that you're real. My imagination has been running away with me lately."

"Um . . . how about this? I'm buying."

"Huh?"

"Would some hallucination be able to pay for your food?"

"Oh. You have a point."

"Good. Now, take my arm." He held out his arm.

"Uh oh, I have a feeling I know what's coming. You got this from Daphne, didn't you?"

"No, she . . . died."

"Oh, I had no idea!"

"Look, it doesn't matter who I got it from. Just hold on."

"Be easy, please. Last time I traveled this way, I–" But just as he put his hand on Peter's sleeve, in almost the next second, they were standing at a restaurant called Legal Sea Food. "Wow, I barely felt that. You were faster than Daphne."

Peter shrugged. "Come on."

Peter ordered a big bowl of clam chowder and a glass of water, but Gabe ordered grilled shrimp, salad, red beans and rice, and iced tea. It was a little more expensive, but Peter took care of it anyway. As they were waiting for the food, Peter said, "So, Gabriel–"

Gabe winced.

"Sorry. You still not comfortable being called that?"

"No, it's alright. I'm trying to get used to it again, now that Sylar's dead. Just like everything else, though, it takes time. I mean, I was just getting used to being called Gabe."

"Well, anyway, how's it going?"

Gabe sighed. "It's going."

"What?"

"That's what we say in France. I think the English usually use a repeated conjunction, what is it, 'as-as'?"

"You mean, so-so?"

"That's right. You know, it's just when you don't feel bad but you don't really feel good. You just feel . . . alive."

"Well, what's the matter?"

"I don't know exactly. I've been seeing you guys–Monsieur Rains, Mohinder, Hiro, but they're not really here. They're all in my mind. And I can tell that it's not them because . . . well, because Monsieur Rains is dead, but the others act in a way that's not like them at all. And then just recently, I . . . do you know that feeling where you can feel your heart inside you, that you can trace its shape, every muscle, every ventricle, because it hurts so much?"

"Yeah, that's called heartache. That's how it feels when your heart is broken."

"But it's not broken. It's still in working order. They even called an ambulance, and they told me nothing was wrong."

"Well, I mean emotionally. It's the kind of feeling you get when you break up a relationship or when you feel homesick or lonely."

"Yeah, that's what everyone's saying, but it just came over me suddenly the other day. I feel empty inside, like something that I used to have was stolen from my soul. I don't understand."

"Yeah."

"So, I'm trying to find a project to fill that void, make me feel better. You remember what I told your mother? I'm trying to get that self-advocacy group started." He looked up with interest. "Hey, Peter, maybe you can be the first person to join."

Peter shook his head. "Sorry. Not for me."

"Why?"

"Because all this information with powers just makes my life complicated. I want it to be simple, just using my power to do good."

"Then why did you want to meet me?"

"I don't know. Maybe it was fate. Maybe I somehow felt that you needed some encouragement. But you know, it wouldn't hurt to get in touch with everybody else we know. Maybe you need to get in contact with these people, maintain these friendships. Because I think you're feeling this way because of loneliness, and you need to feel connected."

"I guess I could try." He sighed again. "Or I could just get used to it."

"Get used to it? What do you mean?"

"I've just been thinking, this is my destiny. This is where I am going to be in the next few years, here in Massachusetts. It's kinda far from New York City, and Texas, and California, and it's very far from Paris and Tokyo, where all of you are. I still can't drive. I can't fly. I'm not a roadrunner or a teleporter. I'm stuck here, for all intensive purposes. So maybe it's time that I say goodbye."

"Gabriel, this doesn't sound like you. You're just giving up? What happened to wanting to winning the Nobel?"

"I'm not giving up! Really, winning the Nobel Prize was secondary to changing the world. I'm dealing with world-changing stuff here . . . if I was allowed to talk about it. And if I can get this group together, that will definitely change things. I'm just trying to be realistic. For instance, I'm still trying to accept that probably no matter what we do, we will never be recognized or celebrated for our abilities. That's just something I got to deal with."

"Gabriel, how can you say that? Didn't you always say you were proud of who you are? Maybe that's what you've lost." He pointed at Gabe. "Do you know what I do?"

"What?"

"Every morning, I look at myself in the mirror, and I say out loud to my reflection, 'You are wonderful. You have been given a gift that makes you incredible, and you are going to use this gift to help people. You're going to save lives today. You are a hero.'"

"And it works?"

"Yeah, it keeps me focused, and it will help you feel better about yourself."

"You know, you may have some wisdom here. All these visions I have, they're always talking about me, about how smart I am and how I am going to do great things one day. Maybe they're saying those things because I'm not saying them to myself."

"Could be."

* * *

"OK." Gabe took a deep breath that evening as he looked in the mirror at the lab. "You are wonderful. You have been given a gift that makes you incredible, and you are going to use this gift to help people. You're going to save lives today. Alright, maybe not, but one day you are going to change the world. You are a hero."

"Still talking to yourself?" Gabe looked up and saw Peter Bishop smirking at him.

"Well . . . yeah, but there's nothing wrong with that."

Astrid walked up to him. "How are you feeling today?"

"A little better."

"Good."

Gabe nodded. He did feel a little better because now he knew what he was going to do.

To be continued . . .


	2. Calls

Chapter 2: Calls

Gabe started that evening in his dorm room. He pulled out his cellphone and opened his contacts. He called the first name on his list: Claire Bennet. A couple of rings, and she picked up. "Hello?"

"_Allo_, Claire?"

"Yes?"

"This is Gabe."

"Oh, hi! How you doing?"

"I've been better. How are you?"

"I could say the same, unfortunately."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Yeah, I'm sorry to say it."

"_Oui. _So, Claire, I called to say that I'm trying to start up a self-advocacy group for us, you know, people with superbilities."

"Yeah, Dad said you might do something. Why do you keep calling it that?"

"I'm trying to keep them separate from those who have regular abilities and disabilities. Papa tells me it's going to be very important in the future, and I believe him. But anyway, I'm not really sure what we're going to do, but we're going to try to work together so that what happened earlier this year does not happen to us again, ever. Would you be willing to join?"

"Um, Gabe, right now's not a good time."

"Studying?"

"No, not exactly. My roommate fell out of the window. Everyone says it's suicide and she left a note, but I really don't see how that's possible, knowing her like I do."

"Oh, _je suis tres desole!_" (I am very sorry.) "So you need some time to . . . get things straightened out."

"Uh, yeah."

"But I'll get back to you, right?"

"Yeah, you can."

"Very well. I am sorry for your loss. _A bien tot_." (Later.)

"_Adieu._" (Goodbye.)

Gabe hung up, a little upset. He called the next name on his list. After a couple of rings, a somewhat tired voice answered, "Hello?"

"Spy? Did I wake you?"

"No, I'm good. How are you doing, Gabriel?"

"I've been better."

"Me too."

"Spy, I need your help. You have a lot of knowledge concerning people with superbilities. Is there any way I can get access to their names, numbers, and addresses? You know, of the people I don't know, and some of the people I do."

"Gabe," he gave a frustrated sigh, "I hate to tell you this, but I think you're making a huge mistake."

"How can it be a mistake? What happened to us last spring was a mistake!"

"All the same, Gabe, you can't make people accept you. That's the whole reason the Company was put into place. People like me, the so-called 'normal' people, are intimidated by what they don't understand. They're always going to see you as outsiders, as freaks. If you create this group, you're just asking for trouble."

"Alright, asking for acceptance maybe gradual. For the time being, we can at least settle for respect, for civil rights."

"What would you rather have, respect or protection? Think, Gabriel, if people just accepted some of you the way you are and won't ascribe consequences for your actions, there would be a lot more Sylars in the world. Do you want that?"

"Well, maybe if he was educated a bit better, if he dwelt on his strengths, there wouldn't have been a Sylar. Maybe if, for example, he was taught to accept himself the way that he was, he wouldn't have lusted for more power!"

Another frustrated sigh. "Alright, Gabe, if you want to pursue this group, I won't stop you."

"_Merci beau–_"

"But I won't help you either! This is going to be entirely on your shoulders, and if it falls apart or turns horribly wrong, don't come crying to me. Good luck." Dial tone.

Nothing daunted, Gabe dialed the next number on his list. After a few rings, Gabe could hear a crying baby in the background as a voice answered, "Hello?"

"_Allo, _Matt?"

"Hey, Gabriel?"

"That's right."

"Wow, it's been a while."

"_Oui_. By the way, my condolences regarding Daphne."

"Oh, that's alright. After she was gone, I was reminded of the family I already had, which I left behind."

"Oh, is that your baby I hear?"

"Yeah, little Matty. Can you say hi?" he said in a baby voice. "No? OK." They both laughed.

Gabe made about the same pitch he made with Claire, but Matt answered, "I'm sorry. I can't."

"Too much of a distance?"

"No, actually, it's because I've been doing everything possible to keep from using my power."

"Why?"

"Well, kid, I did something really bad with my powers about six weeks ago. I was coerced into it. I don't really want to get into details, but ever since it happened, I've never felt the same. And I've been taking a lot of inventory, a lot of soul-searching, and I basically decided that even when I used this power for good, I was being selfish. It usually has a bad outcome. So, I'm stopping cold turkey. I don't want it anymore."

"But that's what this group is all about! You shouldn't feel ashamed of your own powers."

There was a pause.

"Matt?"

"Shut up! Just SHUT UP!"

"Uh, uh . . . "

"Oh, no, no, no, I'm sorry Gabriel. I wasn't talking to you."

"Who could you have said it to, your baby?"

"No, it's . . . it's hard to explain. Gabriel, I really do think you have a good idea here, but I'm just not ready for it. So count me out. I wish you luck, though." And then he hung up.

This was not looking good. Three strikes already. The next name was Great Aunt Angela, and Gabe couldn't trust her. So he skipped down to Nathan Petrelli. "Hello?"

"_Allo_, Nathan?"

"Gabriel! Uh, I'm really sorry, but I can't talk right now. I really got a lot on my plate. A senator's work is never done."

"But I just wanted to ask–"

"Yes, yes, I know, and I'll tell you all about it when I have time, which is not now. So sorry." Dial tone.

Gabe groaned. Well, Peter Petrelli already said no, so he dialed the next name. Once more, no one answered. "Oh, Mohinder, where are you these days?" he asked aloud as he hung up.

Just then, there was a knock on the door. Gabe opened up to see his old college friend, nicknamed Wiki because his mind was connected to the Internet such as Wikipedia. "Micah says he'll help you," he said. That was one of the advantages of his ability; the techo-mage Micah Sanders could contact him directly and even speak through him.

Still, Gabe wondered, "Why is he still doing that? We're not hiding from the government anymore, so there's no need to be secretive. He could just send me an email."

Wiki shrugged and hummed as if he was saying, "I don't know," but then he blinked a couple of times and said, "Cuz it's fun, and I think Wiki likes it."

"Do you like it, Wiki?"

"I guess so. I guess this is how it feels to be prophet, for someone who's named after a prophet." He paused for a second and said, "There you go! Uh, lol," (he pronounced it "lull"), "colon, dash, parentheses . . . I mean, smiley face."

Gabe laughed. _"Oui_, it is difficult to verbalize emoticons, is it not? So, how is he going to help?"

"Micah's creating an awareness group on _Le Livre du Visage."_

Gabe made a confused look. "What is that, a cosmetics catalogue?"

"Um . . . no."

"Well, what else can it be with a name like The Book of the Face?"

Wiki laughed. "No, no, no, Facebook is a networking website. Even I know that! You don't get online much, do you?"

"Just to work."

"Well, you're going to want to see this group when it's up. What should I call it?"

"Oh, yes, that reminds me. There's something I wanted to ask both of you. Could you search for S.S.A.G., please?"

Wiki blinked a couple of times. "Sorry, no results. Did you mean S.A.G., the Screen Actor's Guild?"

Gabe shook his head.

"Sorry, Gabe. I couldn't find anything either." That must have been Micah's reply. "But I'll keep looking."

"That's alright. I guess we will probably have to make something up in the end. Once I come up with something, I'll let you know. _Merci_."

"No problem. Well, goodnight!" Wiki left.

Gabe sat back down on his bed and looked at his phone again. He searched through the contact again. "I'm a little surprised I haven't called anyone from the Circle yet," he thought aloud. "Let's see, Harmony Miller? I don't have her number. Hanami?" Almost as soon as he said that name, loneliness stabbed him in the heart, and he didn't understand why. He just continued to scroll down. "No, don't have her—wait! Hiro! How could I forget him?" Gabe quickly highlighted Hiro's name and pushed the green button.

The phone rang a few times, then someone picked up. "Dial a Hero! How may we save you today?"

"Hiro?"

"Gabriel! _Bonjour_!"

They talked for about an hour, mostly trading stories of what happened during the neo-eugenics period. Hiro told him all about finding little Matt Parkman, and Gabe described his hidden sanctuary for those who found him. Both of them didn't tell the whole truth, though. Hiro did not have the heart to tell Gabe that he was dying, and Gabe withheld the unpleasant truth he learned about his mother. So the conversation was filled with smiles and laughter on both sides with pain hidden underneath. Finally, Gabe said, "Well, it so good to talk to you. Now, I before I let you go, I have something important to discuss." Then, he offered his pitch to Hiro. There was a long, uncomfortable pause, and Gabe was almost certain that he would almost decline. And then . . .

"Uh . . . sure. I would be honored to support my friend any way I can."

"Oh, _merci _Hiro! You are a true friend! Truth be told, I have been turned down all evening."

"Yes, well, I cannot guarantee I can come down, but I will do my best?"

"Why not?"

"Um . . . it is . . . hard to explain."

"Well, thank you again. Now, could you please tell me Hanami's number?"

There was another pause. "Hanami?"

"_Oui_, I thought I had her number, but I can't seem to find it. I think I lost it somehow, or maybe I just didn't put it in. I can't understand why."

Hiro answered with a word that sounded like, "_pinch_" in a small voice, but Gabe understood the meaning behind it, "Oh no."

"Hiro, what is it?"

"Gabriel, I've done something bad. I knew it would not lead to good, and I didn't want to do it, but it happened. I hope you can forgive me. I stepped on a butterfly, and . . . I erased Hanami from existence."

"You . . . what? I don't understand."

"My powers have been very unpredictable lately. I teleported on my own to a time fourteen years ago when I went with my sister and Ando to a carnival. That was a very important day. A fortuneteller told me I would be a great hero, and when I went to bed that night, I had a dream that I stopped time just by thinking about it. I did not want to change anything. I did not want to start the butterfly effect and ruin my future."

"What is this about butterflies?"

"You know, like the movie? If you step on a butterfly in the past, your whole future could change."

"That sounds silly. What would a butterfly have to do with the rest of your life?"

"Uh, it's complicated. But anyway, I met this man who somehow knew my name. He told me that I could change some butterflies. He told me this is why I have my power, to right the wrongs of my own life. And I did remember a mistake, a regret from this memory. I caused my sister's favorite dress to be ruined by a slushy. She always blamed Ando and hated him for it. So the man convinced me that I should stop this from happening. He said there were wrongs in the world, and if I mastered my power I could make them right. He seemed to think that I . . . would be working with him. He pushed me into Kimiko, and the slushy hit me and not her. Then I went back to the present, and I found my sister and Ando were in love. I didn't think anything about it. I felt happy for Ando because he always loved her. I should have thought of Hanami! Why didn't I remember my favorite niece?"

"Well, what does this have to do with her?"

"Remember? Kimiko was Hanami's mother. Father arranged her marriage with a man named Mayonaka when she never found someone on her own. But if she's in love with Ando and they're talking about getting married . . . that means she never married him and . . . and . . ."

"Hanami was never born."

"I'm so sorry, Gabriel. I'll do whatever I can to fix it!"

"_Non, non,_ don't take the trouble. It's alright."

"Don't try to talk me out of it. I'm adding it to my Bucket List."

"Bucket List? What does that mean?"

"You know, just like another movie. It's everything I need to do before I kick the bucket."

"Why would you kick a bucket?"

Hiro chuckled. "Maybe you should add seeing that movie to your list. It means . . . before I die."

"Oh. Well, still, I don't blame you, my friend." Gabriel sighed. "At least now I know."

"Know what?"

"Why I've been feeling so empty. I must have sensed it, when she disappeared. As a part of the Circle, she was part of me. That's how I knew. But tell me about this man. You say he works at a carnival."

"Oh, the butterfly man . . . I cannot remember his name. He was at a booth of one of those games where you knock down bottles with a baseball."

"Yes, I know that kind of game."

"And he had dark hair that was short and a little spiky and . . . dark eyes. And he had black fingernails and this weird tattoo on his arm of a compass, but it moved! The little arm of the compass spun around and around and around! He had an accent, I think it was Scottish. And he was just very strange, friendly, but . . . frightening. He reminded me of Jack Sparrow, you know from—"

"_Pirates of the Caribbean. _I know that movie. I like Jack Sparrow; he's witty. Wit is such a hard humor to master, you know."

"Yes, he was a good man, but he was still a pirate. I guess I should have known that he wasn't acting in my best interest."

"I will remember this description. He is the one I blame. I will find him somehow, and . . . I will make him pay. Well, _merci _for this information, _mon ami_" (my friend).

"OK. _Adieu."_

"_Adieu."_ Gabe hung up the phone and put it back on his bedside table. He didn't feel like calling anyone else. He flopped back down on his bed and began to cry. He just couldn't believe Hanami was gone. Crying eventually wore him out, so he turned out the light. "There could be hope," he thought. "She could be on the other side. If there's another Sylar and another Hiro and everybody, she must still be there. But I can't just crawl back into the tank again. I can't get addicted to the chemicals Dr. Bishop put into me. But how can I go on without her?"

* * *

The next thing he knew, he was walking down a sidewalk in the rain without an umbrella. He was shivering and wondering where he was and how he got there. He was passing by an office building, and he looked up at the façade. He gasped as he looked up at the sign. It read, "Superable Self-Advocacy Group: New England Chapter." "S.S.A.G.!" he whispered. He quickly went inside.

It was a regular looking office inside. The first thing he saw was secretary with straight, blonde hair talking on the phone. He began to approach the desk, and she hung up. "Hello," she said as she rose and extended her hand. She had tattoos of vines and flowers all down her arm.

This was a very bizarre situation. Gabriel had never been greeted by a secretary with a handshake before. He carefully answered, "_Bonjour_," and took her hand.

"Oh," she said as her smile faded. "You're very confused. What's wrong, Gabriel?"

He let go and backed away. "Uh . . ." He wanted to ask how she knew his name, but he just couldn't verbalize the question.

"It's alright. Perhaps all you need is to meet our Gabriel." She picked up the phone again. "Hello, Gabe? There's someone here who has—"

Just then, a finger pushed the disconnect button. The two of them looked up to see a man wearing a leather jacket and a baseball cap glaring the secretary down. "Don't do it, Lyddie."

"Sam, what's the--?"

But the man ignored her and got into Gabe's face. "I remember you. You were at the rally a few months ago. I haven't forgotten all the terrible things you accused Gabriel of, and when you acted like you might apologize, you bailed on us! Well, we don't take kindly to people who flake on us. You are not welcome here."

"_Mais monsieur, s'il vous plait--" _Gabe begged.

"You're not going to throw him out into the rain, Sam!" the secretary said.

"He's not worth your pity, Lyddie!" Sam raised his hands above his head when—

"Sam, it's OK." A new person had entered the room. Sam turned around, and Gabe looked up and saw a tall man with dark hair who he recognized right away. "He's involved in a rather complicated situation. My brother-in-law explained it all to me." He approached Gabe with a smile. "A parallel universe, huh? That's a pretty wicked one."

"What's so evil about it?" Gabe asked cautiously.

"Doesn't 'wicked' mean 'cool' where you're from?"

"Oh. Maybe it does. I've never been able to keep track of slang."

"Well, come on back, Same Name. I'd like to talk to you."

Sam still had his arms crossed. "I still don't trust him, Gabriel."

"Come on, Sam, let's just hear him out," Sylar said as he patted Sam's shoulder. "He needs a chance, just like everyone else in our family, right?" He then gestured to Gabe again, and as the boy followed, Sylar explained, "I apologize about that. Sam's always been zealous for the cause, but he's been even more so since the hybrids killed his brother."

"Hybrids?" Gabe asked. "Is that what you call the, uh, 'normal' people here?"

"Well, not exactly. They have been giving us the biggest grief, but they're not ordinaries. They claim that they're the future. They're half human, half machine. Belly told me that some are on your side. You never heard of them?"

"I don't think so."

"Uh, have you heard of someone named Olivia Dunham?"

"She's my boss."

"Well, you might want to tell her to get cracking on that." Sylar took a closer look at his guest. "What's the matter?"

"I just can't believe this is real. I'm not in the tank. I'm not drugged. I'm not even sure how I got here."

"Belly explained that to me too. He said your mind was unique and that the chemicals that were introduced to your system might be created naturally. You've heard of lucid dreaming, right?"

"I think I heard of it. That's when you realize you're dreaming and take control of what's happening, right?"

Sylar nodded. "He said you had the potential of becoming a lucid pre-dreamer, meaning if you concentrate on something hard enough before falling asleep, that is probably what you will dream about."

"I was thinking a little about this universe a while ago."

"Yeah. He also said we wouldn't have a lot of time because you'd either wake up or slip out of R.E.M. sleep. So, we better get to it." He opened a door and gestured Gabe to go in. It was a simple office with various timepieces on the desk and the walls. Gabe sat down in front of the desk, and Sylar sat behind the desk and leaned forward. "So, how can I help you?"

"Well, I was trying all evening to get something like this started on my side."

"Oh, that's great!"

"_Oui_, and I was calling all my friends with superbilities. I was just amazed, though, that despite everything, they don't seem interested in this. They won't talk to me, and they refuse to help. How can you help someone who doesn't want to be helped?"

Sylar looked at him very thoughtfully. "I take a lot my approach from Paulo Friere. One of the biggest things he said was that the first step toward liberation is to tell the people in trouble that they are oppressed."

"But they should know that! After everything that went on earlier this year when we were hiding and running for our lives, and some of us were even killed, how could they not?"

"You'd be surprised. The oppressors have a lot of tricks to keep the masses placated. There's a lot of comfort in consistency and complacency, you know. Through things like that, over time, it's easy for us to forget that anything's wrong."

"What's the next step?"

"Show them that there's a choice, that they can be liberated. Invite them to show off their strengths, their gifts, and praise them. It takes time, but word spreads, and opportunities grow. Having good connections helps, too. It was very lucky for me that I found Sam. Everyone in his business are superabled, and when he got on board, I had them all."

"So he's not just here for vengeance?"

Sylar chuckled. "Vengeance? What good is that?"

"Well, since those hybrids killed his brother—"

"Even if he killed the one who killed his brother, what then? Ten, fifty, a hundred, a thousand more will spring up in his place. Vengeance changes nothing. It's a temporary solution. We're more interested in change that lasts. Do you see?"

"I guess so."

"Don't worry, it will only get better, and if you have more problems, you can always come back here. I'll be happy to help."

Gabe smiled. "_Merci_, Sylar."

Sylar cocked his eyebrow. "Why do you call me that? Is that what I go by on the other side?"

Gabe nodded.

"That's pretty stupid. Why would I name myself after a watch? I mean, I used to fix them, but I'm not that attached."

They both laughed. "Oh!" Gabe said suddenly. "I have another question. Is there someone here named Hanami Nakamura?"

"Oh yes, Hiro's niece! He's crazy about her. I don't think I ever really met her, though. Let's see." He turned to his computer and typed something in. After a little bit of a pause, he looked up and said, "Oh, there is a problem."

"What?"

"She's not—"

And then, Gabe woke up feeling emptier and more confused than before. "She's not what?"

To be continued . . .


	3. New Friends

Chapter 3: New Friends

Sullivan Brothers Carnival

Samuel watched as the ink sunk into Lydia's back and slowly formed into a face of a young man. "So, who is this one?"

Lydia closed her eyes. "His name is Gabriel Bonhomme. He's a polyglot, speaker of many languages."

"Interesting. Anything else?"

Lydia's eyes closed tighter. "Yes, but . . . it's hard to explain. I can't understand it. I can't put my finger on it, but he's . . . different. He's very lonely and sad. He just lost someone very close to him."

Samuel gingerly touched her hand. "He speaks many languages, you say, but can he speak the language we need?"

Her eyes rolled behind her eyelids, as though she was searching. Then, she opened her eyes. "Yes. Yes, I believe he can."

He kissed her. "Very good. Thank you." Then he noticed on her back that the ink was starting to seep in. "No, no! Keep it in for just a moment longer. The little one needs to see."

"Now?"

"Soon, when she is ready."

* * *

Bowling Alley, Boston, Massachusetts

"So, that's why," Gabe said. "My best friend, probably the closest person to my heart, is just gone, never to return again. And I don't understand why I feel this way. I mean, if she never existed, I never met her. I'm not supposed to remember her. Dr. Bishop was very fascinated that I could even still say her name. I can't entirely explain why. I just know she was part of me, and that part of me was stolen away."

"Mmm-hmm," Sam Weiss answered as he scribbled on a pad.

"This must sound pretty nuts to you, talking about other universes and people just suddenly not existing."

"Trust me, kid, nothing sounds crazy to me."

"Are you even listening? I mean, it even sounds farfetched to me."

"I'm sorry, Gabe, I'm a bit preoccupied. I've been doing one of these sudoku puzzle things. Have you ever gotten into those?"

"I've heard of them. It never really appealed to me. Math is not my forte, you see."

"Well, that's good, because this has nothing to do with math." He came closer and showed him that he was drawing in a sudoku book. "See, I got into it because it reminded me of box scores in bowling. Actually, it's a bit deceptive because it uses numbers, but it's more of a puzzle of logic and process of elimination. This is how it works. All the digits 1-9 have to appear once across, up and down, and in each little box. Sounds hard, but then you take a closer look. Like if there's a 1 here and a 1 here, that means a 1 has to go in this middle row, and there a 1 down here and up here, so the only place it can go is here." He wrote a 1 square in the middle. "See? Now, you try it."

"With 2?"

"Any number you want."

Gabe tried a few numbers. Sam had to correct him a couple of time, but eventually they solved the puzzle together. "Now, how's that feel?"

"That feels a little good."

"OK, why don't you take this book with you? Keep practicing, and if you can, try one at each level. We'll talk more about it next time."

"Uh, OK, but what does this have to do with—?"

"You'll see."

"Alright, _merci _Monsieur Weiss, or is it Doctor Weiss?"

"Just call me Sam."

"I don't know if I can do that."

* * *

Gabe worked on it for a few days. Most of the time, he felt a sense of accomplishment when he finished a puzzle. Occasionally, though, he became overly frustrated because he couldn't figure out what to put in the boxes, no matter what he tried, and when he messed up he couldn't backtrack and figure out what he did wrong. The satisfaction was really only temporary, however. There was still a big hole of loneliness in his heart.

Then one day, as he was working on a puzzle, Gabe felt a sudden breeze. He looked up and saw Peter Petrelli standing in front of him. "Hi, Gabe!"

"_Bonjour_, Peter."

"Hey, um, do you know where your father is these days?"

"I haven't seen him since the funeral."

"Well, he's not in Paris at the university."

"You went all the way over there? What's up?"

"Last night, I saw someone who reminded me of when I met him. She was playing a cello in the park, and the music was so moving, like it was alive. There's only one other time I heard music like that, and that was when your father was playing it. I just thought it would be cool if they met each other is all."

"What are you saying? You think they have the same superbility?"

"Maybe. It's also a way I hoped to connect with her. You see, she works where I work, but she's kinda rude. Yesterday, I asked for a simple thing, and she forced me to put the request in writing. Then I tried to have a conversation with her, but she wouldn't talk to me."

"Well, maybe she's on the spectrum."

"You mean, autistic?"

"_Oui_. She might be nonverbal and rigid with the rules."

"I didn't even think about that. Maybe it would be good if you met her, too. Would you be able to, maybe this afternoon?"

"I think so. Just let me tell Astrid where I'm going." Once he did that, Gabe took Peter's elbow. In the next second, they were standing in a hospital in New York.

Peter pointed to a desk. "That's her station over there. She's the secretary. I got to get back to work."

"Wait, what's her name?"

Peter shrugged and ran away. Gabe didn't like meeting someone cold like this, and on his own, but he saw nothing else to do. He approached the window slowly. "_Bonjour,_" he said, but as he spoke, his hand suddenly jerked in a strange wave above his head. He stopped for a moment and wondered why he did that.

The woman just smiled and imitated his wave exactly. Gabe found that very bizarre.

"How are you?" Gabe asked, but again as he spoke, his hands quickly moved, doing gestures he had never seen before, and he couldn't make them stop. Once the hands became still, he stared at them, wondering what in the world was happening.

"Are you OK?" the woman asked. There was something peculiar about her voice. It sounded muffled. Immediately after he heard it, Gabe knew exactly what was going on.

He looked back up at her and asked, "Are you hearing?"

A very quick jab in the air with her fingers told him his answer, "No."

Gabe stood back amazed. After everything Peter had told him about this woman, he found it hard to believe she had deafness. "_Choette!_" he said aloud, but he signed the word, "Cool!"

Then she looked at him with intense interest and signed, "Are you?"

"Yes," he answered, nodding his fist.

"Are you an interpreter?"

"In a way, yes."

"You sign very well."

"Can you believe it is my first attempt?"

"Really?"

"Yes. I have never signed before in my life. I have always wanted to learn, and now I am doing it. This is so cool! Oh!" He was so excited to learn of her disability that he forgot his manners. "What is your name?"

"Emma," she spelled.

"My name is Gabe."

She smiled. "Nice to meet you," she said aloud.

"Oh, you don't need to talk," he signed to her. "I know spoken language is foreign to you. If it makes you feel uncomfortable—"

"I'm fine either way." Then she had a look of surprise. "How can I help you?"

"Excuse me?"

"I am a secretary in a hospital. Did you come here to visit someone?"

"Yes. I came to visit you!"

"Me? But you just met me!"

"I am friends with Peter Petrelli." That name took a while to spell.

She looked at him questioningly. "Who?"

"You know, he's tall, has dark hair." Nothing seemed to be familiar to her. "He says he works here."

"This is a hospital. A lot of people work here."

"Well, he said he spoke to you just yesterday. He . . ." Gabe signed with hesitation, "he said you were rather rude. But I don't think you are!"

She shook her head. "He does not understand. Nobody does."

Gabe didn't know what she meant by that. How could he not know her condition? Then something else occurred to him. "He told me about seeing you in the park yesterday, playing the cello. How could you have done that? Did it take you a really long time to—?"

"Can you believe it was my first attempt?"

He gaped at her. "How is that possible? Are you—?"

"I do not want to talk about it, especially to a stranger."

Gabe felt it was a bit curt to cut him off like that. He didn't know where to go after that. Then he signed to her, "My father can do the same thing! He did not know how to play piano, and now he plays like a master. Sometimes he cannot stop! Of course, in his case, it was after being tortured for four years. He does not like to talk about it either."

Emma looked at him curiously. "Does your father have . . .?"

"What?"

She shook her head. "Never mind. I am rather busy, so please move aside and let me work."

"But—!"

"Have a nice day."

That was only five minutes. Gabe didn't know what to do with the rest of his time. Finally, he sat down on a bench, and he suddenly realized that he was still holding the sudoku puzzle book. He pulled a pencil out of his pocket and picked up where he left off.

* * *

She was sitting alone in the fortuneteller's booth staring into the crystal ball, not because she could see the future but to see how everything looked so funny in it. She reached underneath for the key, but someone came in.

"There you are, Sarah." Samuel sauntered into the booth and got down on his knees next to her. Lydia also came in. He reached out to touch the girl's hair, but she cringed, and he relented. So he only whispered gently, "I think I found a friend for you. But I need your help to reach him."

She didn't answer but stared ahead.

"Aunt Lydia will help you find who he is. She knows about him."

She still didn't answer.

"Sarah, this is important. You want to be part of this family, don't you? You've always been on the outside, no matter what we've done for you, no matter how much we loved you. Don't you want someone to bring you in?"

She then very carefully placed her hand on the crystal ball.

"Atta girl. Now," he gingerly touched Lydia's back, "put your other hand right here." Sarah very slowly put her hand above the tattoo of Gabriel. "Do you see him?"

Sarah nodded.

"Good. That's just what I need." He put his hand on the other side of the crystal ball. For a moment, there was a red glow that came from the crystal. Then Samuel removed his hand and smiled. "Nice job, Sarah. It won't be long before your new friend comes here." He then left the booth and returned to his trailer to have a nap.

* * *

About ten minutes later, Emma sat next to Gabe on the bench. "I love those puzzles!" she signed. "Can I do some with you?"

"I thought you said you were busy."

"I am on my break. Here, I will do a number, then you do a number, OK?"

"Yes."

So they worked together until they solved a couple of puzzles. He liked seeing her big smile, but then he noticed something he didn't expect.

"Emma, why are you wearing headphones? Surely you cannot—"

She showed him that they were not plugged into anything. She said aloud, "I wear them to . . . look normal."

"Emma, I am amazed. Why are you ashamed of who you are?

Suddenly, a look of indigence crossed her face. She glared at Gabe fiercely. "I have had about enough of this!" she said aloud. "Why are you so interested in me? Just because I'm deaf!"

Gabe tried to be calm. He said in a soft voice as he signed, "In a way, that is true. I am interested in a friendship with you because you are a person with deafness, but it is not for the reasons you might expect. I do not want to take advantage of you or anything. It is just that you . . . Dr. Lennard J. Davis is a Disability Studies scholar who also has hearing impairments. He suggests that people with deafness have their own culture. In Martha's Vineyard, deafness is the norm. Davis even goes so far as to calling people with no hearing a different race. That . . . gives me hope that maybe one day I will recognize a culture for people like me. I am autistic."

"Oh!" she grunted. She quickly signed, "I had no idea."

"Yes. You know, Emma, you need to learn something else that Davis taught. He said normalcy is a completely socially defined concept. There's really no such thing. So you should not pretend that you are hearing. Embrace the positives, the strengths. Be proud of who you are."

She looked down. "It's hard," she said out loud, "and it's not just because I'm deaf."

"It is OK. It takes time. But you know, if we work together, we can teach a lot of people about disability culture who do not know about it already. We can change the world."

Then, a sad look crossed her face. "I don't know, Gabe. I don't want to change the world."

"Why?"

"Because when you try to change the world, something happens to make it crash all around you. It's better not to try." She stood up. "My break is over. It's nice talking to you."

"Yes. Goodbye," he signed back to her. Then she turned back to her station, and Gabe felt lonely again.

Just then, Peter returned. "So, what did you think?" he asked.

"Well, she's not on the spectrum. But she's not rude either. In fact, she's rather nice."

"Really?"

"_Oui_. She just needs . . ." He wasn't sure what to say. Emma probably didn't want people to learn that she was deaf; that's what the whole thing about the headphones was about. So he finally said, "she just needs proper accommodations."

"Like what?"

Gabe hesitated again and then answered, "She needs someone to understand her."

"OK. I'll keep that in mind next time I see her." Then, he took Gabe back. "Well, thanks," he said before leaving. "I guess I'll see you later."

"Peter!" Gabe said as Peter turned around. "Before you go, I need to tell you something."

"What is it?"

Gabe opened his mouth, but the words wouldn't come out. The name was on the tip of his tongue but wouldn't go further. He finally shook his head. "Never mind." Peter nodded and took off.

* * *

Gabe went to bed with a troubled mind. It bothered him that he couldn't say to Peter what he needed to say. But then he thought, "I can solve this. The Sylar on the other side said I am a lucid pre-dreamer. All I have to do is think of her, and I'll see her again. I don't care what she's not. It won't matter if she's there, she exist. Alright." He closed his eyes and tried to picture her, but it was a blur. He tried to think of the first time that he saw her. "Let's see. She was tall . . . was she? And of course, she was Oriental, because of her uncle. And she was wearing . . . oh, what was it? A dress, many colors. It had insects on it. What was it, ants? No, that's not it. Ladybugs? Bees? Dragonflies? Maybe that was it. And she was beautiful, so beautiful. And her voice was so gentle. And her name . . . it starts with an 'H,' I know. Oh, it was like music! Why can't I remember?"

Suddenly, Gabe found himself standing outside. All around him were bright colors and blinking lights. He was aware of loud calliope music and the strong smells of hot dogs, popcorn, and funnel cake. _"Le carnivale_," he said to himself. He stood still for a moment as all the senses washed over him, rather confused. Then he thought, "It's alright. This is still a dream, and since I know it's a dream, that makes it a lucid dream. My mind wants to take another route. Instead of finding her, it wants me to confront the man who did this to her. I can do that. I just need to find him."

So he started heading to the booths with the games. The first one he saw was the one with the milk bottles. "Hey there, friend! Want to try your luck?" the man called out from that booth.

Gabe looked at him closely, but he didn't look like the man Hiro described. Gabe took the hand outstretched holding the baseball and pulled up his sleeve. No compass tattoo. Gabe let go and said, "_Non, merci," _as he backed away. From there, he looked at every game booth he passed. There were couple of ring toss games, a fishing pond, a duck hunt shooting game, darts, a couple of popping balloons games (Gabe passed those very quickly because he was frightened of the noise), and a weight guessing game. Although all the "carnies" in charge of these games looked rather shady, none of them fit Hiro's description. And then . . .

"Step right up! Come and test your mettle! See if you have what it takes to take the title of Strongest Man in the World!"

It was one of his least favorite carnival games, the strength test. Gabe used to get teased because he could barely lift the mallet, and when he did hit the peg, he couldn't even make it halfway up to hit the bell. As he was walking by that one looking for the next game, the man called again, "You there! Do you have what it takes?" Gabe turned around to say no, but he stopped. The man smiled at him. "What do you think, Gabriel? Are you strong enough?"

This did look like the man Hiro described. He had the spiky hair, the dark eyes, and the black fingernails. There was only one other cue Gabe needed. He came closer to the man and reached out as though he was reaching for the giant mallet, but instead he took the man's arm and pulled up the sleeve. There was the compass tattoo with the arm circumventing madly. _"Vous!_" Gabe said. Then, he punched the man in the face. There were gasps from all the onlookers, but Gabe didn't care. He hit the man again and again.

And the man laughed. "This isn't the way you play the game."

Gabe still didn't listen. He continued to hit him in the face and in the stomach, and he kicked his legs. He was glad this was a dream because he wouldn't be strong or coordinated enough to do this in real life. He only felt this strong one other time in his life, and that was when he was protecting someone from Sylar. It felt good.

"Is this how you greet everyone, Gabriel? It's little wonder why you're lonely."

"Not everyone, just you! You killed her! You destroyed her! You annihilated her!"

"You must have me confused with someone. I'm not a killer."

But Gabe saw a flash of something in his face, something he learned a few months ago as a "microexpression" that revealed one thing. "LIAR!" And Gabe fought harder.

"I'm not lying! I mean no one harm. Who is it whose honor you're defending?"

Gabe stopped fighting for a moment to pause. He had to remember her name. Then, it came to him like lightning. "Hanami Nakamura!"

"Hanami?" The man shook his head. "I'm sorry, but that doesn't ring a bell. No giant teddy bear for you," he said with a delirious smile.

Furious, Gabe picked up the giant mallet with ease and swung it at the man. "Then how about this? You visited her uncle Hiro Nakamura in the past and convinced him to change it. Because of what you did, Hanami's mother never married. She never had her daughter. Hanami was the butterfly you crushed!" Then he remembered, she had butterflies on her dress.

"I'm sorry," the man said in between gasps. "That was completely unintentional. You have my deepest condolences and apologies. But I believe in making new friends. There's an old rhyme we used to say when I was a boy, 'Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver, the other is gold.'"

"I don't want new friends! I want Hanami!" Gabe swung the mallet at him one more time and hit him so that he fell on the ground. "You don't care! You don't know what she meant to me! She was part of my heart! She was part of my soul! And you just ripped it out without—"

Suddenly, Gabe fell down. The man had gotten on his feet (just barely) and clapped his hands. As soon as he did, Gabe felt a rumble under his feet that made him trip and skin his knee. "I'm sorry to do that, but I need you to listen to me. I do understand what you are feeling, that void in your heart. I feel it too. My brother was killed just a few days ago."

At this, Gabe stood up and looked closer at the man. He shaded his eyes with his hand, and suddenly the man looked entirely different. "Sam?"

The man looked at him questioningly. "Yes. Have we met?"

"I didn't recognize you without your _chapeau. _So, this is what you do? You're a carny?"

"Not just a carny, I'm the owner."

"And everyone here has superbilities?"

Sam smiled. "Superbilities. I like that. But yes, everyone here is special, gifted, and together we are a family."

"_A family, just like Sylar says,"_ Gabriel thought.

"I know there are ways to fill this void, to end this pain. Becoming part of this family is a way to start."

"Becoming part of the family? You mean, joining this circus? I don't know if I can commit to that. And I'm not saying that I forgive you."

"Then I'll do what it takes to help you fill your void, even if it means finding your friend. I don't know if it can be done, but I will try."

"_Merci._"

"Don't thank me yet. There are things I want you to do."

But before Gabe could find out what they were, he woke up. As he got out of bed, his leg felt sore. Then he discovered that his knee was bleeding.

* * *

"Keep still."

Samuel groaned as the girl put her hands on his nose. "Your hands are so cold."

"Shh," she whispered. Her hands slowly turned warmer as the pain disappeared from Samuel's nose.

"Thank you, Flo," he said quietly.

"We're not done yet. Turn over."

"Samuel!" Edgar and Lydia ran over to him. "We heard all sorts of noise like cracking coming from here. Did your bed fall apart?"

"It wasn't his bed. It was his bones!" Flo answered.

"What happened?" Edgar asked.

"Sarah gave me a lucid dream," Samuel said, "more lucid than I was intending. That kid packs a wallop." He then explained everything that happened. Then he looked at Lydia. "He knew me. He called me by name. How did he know me?"

"I don't know," she answered shaking her head.

"Sarah does. I will need to ask her."

"Since when do you wear a hat?" Edgar asked.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"This guy said he didn't recognize you without your hat. I've never seen you with a hat."

"That's a good point. Maybe it's not me. But still . . . how did he know my name? How did he know that everyone here, (how did he put it?), has superbilities?"

"So, how are you going to find that girl?" Lydia asked.

"Sarah's probably in the fortune teller's tent, where she always—"

"No, I mean the girl Gabriel talked about."

"I'm not."

"But didn't you say--?"

"I had to land the fish in the boat somehow, Lydia. Sarah needs Gabriel, more than he needs this other girl. We need to get him here, and I will do whatever it takes to do that."

To be continued . . .


	4. Weeping for Absalom

Chapter 4: Weeping for Absalom

Washington, D.C.

Noah wasn't particularly a religious man, but sometimes he read the Bible. He just occasionally was struck by curiosity to read a little every once in a while to see what it said beyond what he learned in Sunday school. He felt like that now. Lately, his interest was the life of King David, and he could see very easily that a lot more happened to him than just killing Goliath. "And I thought my family had problems," he mumbled as he read. It was intriguing, but he wasn't sure really what to do with it.

Then one day he was doing an errand, getting more milk for cereal, and he was thinking about his conversation with Claire about finding a job. The supermarket was not far, so he walked. And he passed by a homeless guy who just looked like a big lump of blue. Noah stopped short once he heard his voice. He turned around and saw that it was a man with a blue Snuggie wrapped tightly around him, and he was crying. Noah came closer. "Michael? Michael Bonhomme?"

The man looked up, and Noah could see clearly that it was the professor.

"What's the matter?" Just after he said that, he knew exactly what was that matter. Michael was the only mourner at Sylar's funeral, and he's still mourning. Still, Michael didn't answer but continued crying. "How long have you been out here? Are you hungry? Do you want to come in where it's warm?" Michael never responded. Noah wasn't even sure if he knew he was there. He stretched out his hand. "Here, why don't you come with me? I don't have much to offer, but at least it's something." Michael nodded and put his hand on Noah's shoulder and stood up.

At the first opportunity, Noah dialed his daughter's cell phone. "Claire, I think I found a job."

* * *

"Nathan!" Angela called as she came into his office carrying a box full of stuff.

"Ma!" he said, surprised. He kissed her cheek, then said, "What brings you to D.C.? You cleaning out the garage?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. Here, come look." She put the box down and announced, "Just what the doctor ordered, a trip down Memory Lane! Last we spoke, you said something about looking back on your life and it feeling like somebody else's. Well, Nathan, here is your life!"

"You didn't have to do this, Ma," he said. "Yeah, I don't recognize any of this stuff."

"Of course you do. Pick something up. Maybe you'll find something that you can tell Gabriel about."

"Is there anything in here that . . . ?"

"A few things. They're at the bottom." Angela dug down into the box. "Oh, yes. Here." She pulled out a white wool blanket that was very dirty.

"Don't tell me that's--?"

"Yes, Nathan. Much like other children around four or five, you had a security blanket that you took with you everywhere. You felt like it protected you from monsters in the closet or under the bed and all other dark places they might hide. It was very cute, though it did take a while. I considered taking you to see a child psychologist. Then one day, you just stopped carrying it. I asked you why you didn't have it with you, and you said, 'God wants me to be brave.' It was a very sweet response. To this day, I'm not sure exactly where you got such wisdom, but I have a hunch Ruth had something to do with it. Perhaps as you search through these things, that could be one mystery you try to solve."

Nathan nodded, and then he picked up a baseball cap.

* * *

Harvard University

It had been a couple of days since Gabe had the dream at the carnival. It started to feel like a memory, but Gabe didn't forget it like he did most of his dreams. Even when he tried, his knee still stung. He had a bandage over it now. He didn't talk about the dream much until one afternoon when his phone rang. "_Allo?_" he said.

"Gabriel?" It was Hiro.

"Hiro! _Bonjour! Ca va?" _(How are you?)

"Fine. I just wanted to tell you I'm a bit stumped about what to do about Hanami."

"Why?"

"Well, I just talked to Kimiko. She wants me to give her away at her wedding next year, and I told her I would. Then, I asked while we were on the subject, had she ever discussed with Ando about having children. And she said, 'Of course, we want to have children to carry on our family legacies.' And then I asked how she would feel if one of her children was autistic. She put her hand over her mouth and said, 'Hiro, don't wish such dishonor on our family!' I tried to tell her about you and how you have been anything but a dishonor, but she wouldn't listen. So I don't know if they would have her or if she would keep her in the family."

"Well, Hiro, isn't the answer simple? Why don't you just go back in time and undo what you did. You know, push you out of the way when you were being pushed into—"

"I'm not going to do that. I've made up my mind that no matter what, I'm not going to break up Ando and my sister."

"Why not?"

"Because Ando's my friend! I know how much he loved Kimiko, and I can see how happy he is with her. I can't take that away."

"But they're still here. You can see them any day. Hanami's gone. And I thought you loved her."

"I do!"

"Then why are you putting your friend's happiness over her life?"

There was no answer for a while, then Hiro said, "I probably should go." There was click and a dial tone. Gabe shook his head. He just couldn't think of a way that they could have it both ways. Or perhaps they could.

* * *

"I need your help."

"Alright, Noah, what is it?" Peter's tone over the phone did not sound accommodating.

"You're the one who originally found Professor Michael Bonhomme a few years ago, right?"

"Yeah."

"And that was when you were working in hospice care."

"Actually, I was in-between jobs at the time, but I was able to talk to some folks in that department to get compensated. Why?"

Noah sighed. "Because he's here."

"What do you mean?"

"I found him on the street, in the cold, wearing a Snuggie. He's here, and he won't stop crying. Was he crying when he was with you?"

"No. Well, there was once, but he never communicated his feelings until he saw Gabriel."

"What all did you do?"

"I just gave him food, took care of his needs, tried to look for anyone who might know him. Oh, and there is one thing I made sure he had."

"What's that?"

"I'll make sure I'll get it down to you when I get the chance."

* * *

Nathan's head was swimming with images of death. "You know, it was an accident," he told himself. "Mother made sure to keep everyone happy. I'm in the clear. She said so. Maybe I should just let it go. Yeah, maybe that's best. OK, why don't I take a look at what else Ma got for me? Maybe I can remember something to tell Gabriel."

He dug into the bottom of the box to find some toy, but the first thing he touched was that dirty, old blanket. In the next instant, he was lying on a bed with that blanket pulled up to his chin. A teenage girl was sitting by his bed. She looked so tall, but she had such a kind smile.

"Ruth, will you tell me a bedtime story?" Nathan asked in such a small voice.

"Of course, Nathan," she answered. "Do you want to hear about Jack and the Beanstalk again? Or how about the Brave Little Tailor?"

"Aren't there any stories about a hero named Nathan?"

The girl looked away for a moment, but then she smiled. "Actually, there is. And this is a very special story. It's in the Bible, and the stories in the Bible really happened."

"Really?"

"Uh-huh. Now this happened a long time ago. You remember David, the boy who killed Goliath?"

"Yeah! He had that sling!"

"That's right. Well, David grew up to become a king. And he was a very good king who loved God with all his heart, and he loved his people. But one day, he made a big mistake. You see, he saw a woman named Bathsheba who he thought was very beautiful. He wanted her to be his wife, but she was already married. It would be wrong to marry her. So he made a very selfish decision. Her husband Uzziah was in his army, and King David asked for him to be moved to the very front of battle so that he would be hurt and killed. Sadly, that's exactly what happened. Uzziah died, and David married his wife. This made God very unhappy, and He sent a prophet to tell David. And the name of the prophet was Nathan.

"Nathan came to David and told him a story. He said, 'There were two men who lived in the same city. One was very rich. He had many livestock and sheep. The other was very poor, and he only had one little lamb, but he loved her very much. He kept it inside and took very good care of it. It became a special part of his family.'"

"Like a pet!" Nathan said.

"A little like a pet, yes. And Nathan said, 'And then one day, a traveler visited the rich man. And the rich man had to prepare a meal for him. But he didn't want to kill one of his own animals to fix a meal for his guest, so he took away the poor man's sheep away from him!'"

"Oh, that's mean!"

"Yes! King David thought so, too. He said, 'This man should be killed immediately, and he should give the poor man forty times the sheep he lost because he didn't think about him!'

"And then Nathan said, 'That man was you. God knows what you've done, and He is not happy. You have done something very wrong. Therefore, your family is always going to be fighting each other, and it will not be happy. And though you did this thing in secret, everyone will know one day.'

"King David was sad. And he said, 'I've done something wrong, and I am sorry.' And Nathan said, 'God knows you are, and He will forgive you so that you will not die.' And then he left, but the King still lived with the consequences."

"What happened?" Nathan asked.

"Well, that's another story, and it would probably be better if you heard it when you are older. But think about Nathan. That was a very brave thing he did, going to the king to tell him to his face that he was wrong. You see, God wants us to be brave, especially when it's about doing the right thing, even when it's hard."

"I want to be brave, like Nathan!"

Ruth laughed. "I know you will be! Now, go to sleep."

That's when the memory ended. "Well, that was clever," Nathan thought, "telling a preschooler the story of David and Bathsheba. At least now, I have something to tell Gabriel. It's probably pretty profound, what she told me. I think no matter what I did, I tried to do it with some integrity. That makes me feel a bit better. Maybe that accounts for my political style, why I tend to get very dedicated. Anyway, I better call." He picked up his phone, but before he could dial the number, his finger stopped in midair. "No, Ruth was right. I can't be scared to do the right thing. I have to tell the truth, and I gotta take care of that right away." He put the phone down and walked out.

* * *

Next thing he knew, Noah was spending the afternoon trying to help some movers to get a piano in his little apartment. At his first opportunity, he looked at Peter and said, "You could have told me that is what you meant."

Peter shrugged. "Well, I thought you could've figured it out."

"Yeah." He stood still for a while, not sure what to say. Finally, he said, "Well, I guess I better go back to the store. I probably need to buy a little bit more than cereal, now that I'm supporting someone else."

"You know, there is something you're forgetting," Peter said just before Noah walked out the door.

Noah turned around. "What's that?"

"When I found the professor, I had no idea who he was. I didn't know his name. I didn't know he was from France. I didn't know he had an ability. I didn't know he was a professor or that he had a family. All that I knew about him was that he played a mean piano and he didn't talk and apparently he lived in Central Park. And it was assumed that he was autistic. But now we know a bit more about him, and one of the things we know about him now is that he has a son, and we know where he is." Peter went closer to him. "Gabriel told me the other day that he hadn't seen his father since the funeral. I think you should call him, let him know he's with you."

Noah nodded. "Yeah, you're right. I will." Just after Peter left, Noah dialed Gabriel's cellphone number, but it was busy.

* * *

That was because Gabe got another call from Hiro. "_Bonjour_, Gabriel," Hiro said, sounding much more subdued that usual.

"Oh, Hiro, I was hoping to talk to you again. I thought of another solution. Have you ever teleported to a parallel universe?"

"What?!"

"You know, a parallel universe! It's a device used in a lot of sci-fi. There's a rather famous episode of 'Star Trek' about it. You know, it's another place where—"

"Yes, I know what a parallel universe is."

"Well, maybe all we need to do is go to one and find Hanami. She has to exist someplace else."

"I don't know, Gabriel, that sounds like a crazy J. J. Abrams show."

"I know it doesn't sound plausible, but I've learned working with Dr. Bishop that just because something doesn't sound plausible doesn't mean it can't be true. I've been to a parallel universe, more than once. There's one where Sylar is a good guy. In fact, he's a civil rights leader for people like us. And, oh yes, I met the man you said did this. He's from that parallel universe. His name is Sam, and he's an all right guy, maybe a bit of a loose cannon, but I think he can get on our side. Anyway, he said that he could try to help us get Hanami back. So if we have no luck—"

"Gabriel, that's not why I called you. There's something I really need to tell you, and since I'm long distance, I probably should be brief."

"Oh. What is it?"

"I'm dying."

Gabe was too shocked to speak for a moment, but then he said, "_Non, non_. It can't be."

"Yes. I saw a doctor when I came back home last time. The headaches weren't going away. He said I had a brain tumor, and it was too late to operate. There was nothing they could do."

"But . . . but you're young and healthy, and you don't smoke. Do you?"

"No."

"Then what could—?"

"Ando thinks it's my powers."

"That doesn't make sense! If this is evolution, why would nature kill what it is evolving?"

"I don't know, Gabriel. I'm so sorry."

"I'll pray for you, Hiro. The next time I see Papa, I'll ask him to pray for you, too."

"That doesn't sound like you."

"No, I pray. Probably not as often as I should. I believe in science, but I'm still a boy of faith. Papa wouldn't have me any other way. Besides, I've heard of cases when people prayed for people with cancer, and then they went back to the doctor and they can't find it, or it's suddenly benign. So it sounds like the best thing to—" Suddenly, there was a couple of clicks. "Hiro? Are you still there?"

There was no answer for a moment, then he heard a few more clicking sounds, and another voice spoke up. "Hello? Who is this?"

"This is Gabe. Ando, is that you?"

"Gabriel?"

"Yes. Is Hiro alright?"

"I don't know. He just disappeared. His powers have been working strangely like that. Sometimes he just vanishes."

"Is it because of the—?"

"So he told you."

"_Oui. Je suis tres desole."_

"_Domo arrigato."_

"I hope everything works out."

"Well, we'll do what we can. We'll wait for what comes."

"Oh, and Ando?"

"Yes?"

"Congratulations on your marriage."

"I appreciate that, Gabriel."

Gabe cried as he hung up.

* * *

No piano music was heard in Noah's apartment. Michael had his head buried in his arms, still crying, as he sat next to the piano. Noah had all he could take about this because he knew why Michael was crying. It was time he showed him, on his level, that it was time to stop. He had just read something perfect to achieve that.

Noah sat down in front of Michael, opened his Bible to II Samuel, and read aloud, "Today you have humiliated all your men who have just saved your life and the lives of your sons and daughters and the lives of your wives and concubines. You love those who hate you and hate those who love you. You have made it clear today that the commanders and their men mean nothing to you. I see that you would be pleased if Absalom were alive today and all of us were dead." Then he slammed his Bible shut and looked at Michael. "That's exactly who you are. You are just like King David, weeping for Absalom. Well, just like Joab here, I'm here to tell you, excuse me for saving your life."

Michael just continued to weep.

Noah just bent down and looked at his face. "Look. Sylar's gone. You're just going to have to accept that. If he were alive, he would have hunted you down, slit your brain open just like everybody else. I know you think he changed, but that was an illusion. He had you fooled. You're gonna have to man up and get over this!" But Michael just wouldn't stop. Noah sighed. "I'm calling your son. Maybe he'll know what to do."

As soon as Noah left and Michael was alone, the professor looked up. "Did you hear that? Did you hear what he said? It's not true! I don't want it be true."

He was looking at a man sitting next to him with slick black hair and thick, Clark Kent-like glasses. "I know it's hard," he said softly. "And I really do appreciate what you're going through on my behalf."

"But why should I go through it? He's right. You're dead! I saw it! I saw you return to dust with my own eyes."

"Michael, we've talked about this. I'm alive. I know I am."

"But I saw it!"

"I can't explain it to you. I just know I'm still out there. You have to help me. And coming to Bennet, that was a good idea. He's bound to know something."

"Why won't you just leave me alone, Gabriel? Let me grieve my own way."

"First of all, you are grieving. I can't seem to turn your grieving off. Second, I'm not going anywhere."

"You forced me to be human again."

"I know, you have to deal with your emotions more when you're a person than you do when you're a racoon, but I couldn't leave you like that. It wouldn't help me at all."

"Why me? Why did you come to me?"

"Because you'd give me hope. No one else would. Michael, if I'm dead, I have no hope at all. You know that. You just need to find me somehow and help me before it's too late."

"It is too late. I'm not going to chase a rabbit that's already in its hole."

"Wouldn't David want to give Absalom a second chance? Don't you think I deserve one?" He sighed. "Look, I don't think there's anything I can do to convince you of the truth, but that's what faith is all about, isn't it? Just take your time, find out what Bennet knows. The truth will come out sooner or later."

Michael just turned away and wept again. Noah looked back in on him from the other room and shook his head. This was not going to be easy.

To be continued . . .


	5. Kum Ba Yah

Chapter 5: Kum Ba Yah

Gabe watched as his father wept. Michael never looked in his direction but just sat on the floor. "So, what's going on?" Gabe finally asked.

"Constant crying, refusal to eat, inability to take pleasure in activities once of intense interest. I think it's rather obvious, Gabe. Your father's depressed."

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time. My aunt and uncle told me that when Mama died, he went through a period like this. He wouldn't speak for a few months. They actually had to take me out of his care for a time, until he got himself together. But I wonder why he's here?"

"I told you, I found him."

"No, I mean, how can he be here? He told me that when he escaped from Northpoint, he was constantly transformed into animals because it made him let go of those horrible memories, his emotions. I guess I figured that he decided to grieve by living like a animal. I would have been worried if it took too long, but I was hoping when he come out of it, he'd be over it.

"It's not the depression that bothers me. It's the source of that depression."

"Sylar?"

"Exactly."

"I can't say I'm entirely thrilled about it either, but I think it's because he told me that he felt he could save Sylar. When Sylar died, Papa probably thought he failed."

"Well, that makes sense, but that doesn't really make it better."

"I'll go talk to him. I won't promise anything, but it might help." Gabe walked over and sat on his knees next to his father. "_Papa, c'est moi, ton fils," _(It's me, your son), "Gabriel."

Michael looked up at him with a quivering lip. The tears were still falling down his cheeks, but he wasn't sobbing anymore.

"Papa, are you alright?"

Michael shook his head.

"I understand. It takes time, right?"

Michael nodded.

"I can be patient. Will you be alright here? Do you want to go with me?"

Michael shook his head.

"_D'accord._ I'll let you stay with the spy. He'll take good care of you. Oh, Papa, there's something I need you to do. Papa, Hiro is dying. He has a brain tumor. We need to pray for him. Would you, _s'il vous plait? Maitenaut?_" (Now?) "I'll lead it." Gabriel took his father's hands and bowed his head. "Dear Lord, please be with Hiro. Send him help in his hour of trial. If it be Your will, Lord, please heal him. Be with the hands of the doctors ministering to him, or take his cancer away. I do not know Your plan, Lord, but as far as I know, we still need Hiro. Yet Your will be done. And please be with Papa. Restore his mind in good time that he may continue to serve. Send him the peace that only You can give and the courage that he needs to pick himself up again. In the name of Jesus, Amen."

Michael may have weakly whispered, "Amen," but Gabe wasn't sure. He got to his feet and approached Noah. "It's just going to take some time."

"Should I send him to a doctor to prescribe him an antidepressant?" Noah asked.

Gabe shook his head. "_Non._ Just take good care of him, _s'il vous plait._ He wants to stay with you."

"I'm not sure if that's a good idea. I don't really have the facilities to care for him. I mean, for weeks I've been eating cereal most of the time."

"I'll be happy to send you compensation."

Noah nodded. "Thank you, Gabe. Now, is there anything else you need me to do for you?"

"Actually, I would like to see Claire."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, I would just like to visit her at her college. I just thought it would be nice to talk to her, catch up. You know, I've been feeling kinda lonely lately. It would be good to see a friend."

"Well, actually in a few days, her dorm is having an open house. All family members and friends of both genders are invited. I'd be happy to take you along."

"I'd like that."

"Alright, I'll come pick you up when it's time."

But the more he thought about it, he wasn't happy about it. So he called Peter. "I need you to ask your supervisor to take next Tuesday night off. This may sound a little humiliating, but . . . I need a babysitter."

"For the professor? He doesn't need a babysitter. He's older than I am and fully capable of taking care of himself. That's what I learned last time, and _that's _humiliating!"

"Peter, he's rather deeply depressed. He hasn't touched that piano you put in here. I'm worried he might be suicidal. I don't feel right leaving him alone."

"Well then, leave it with his son!"

"Gabriel's coming with me to Claire's open house. Perhaps next to him, you know him best. He's probably the most comfortable with you. Peter . . . please."

"Can I . . . bring a friend?"

"It's fine with me."

So after he got that evening approved, he went to Emma's window. "Hi Emma," he said as they made eye contact. "Um, are you working on Tuesday?"

"No, I have Tuesday off," she answered.

"Emma? Are you . . . ?" Peter made one of the few signs he knew, the sign for "OK."

She gave him a smile, but it looked very tired.

"Well, anyway, there's someone I want you to meet. When I first met him, he was playing a piano in the park. I could see colors when he was playing, but not just colors. I saw shapes, and there were smells and tastes, too. Maybe if you two played together, it would be glorious. I'm going down to see him Tuesday evening."

"I don't know," she answered. "This power, I am having problems with it."

"He could maybe help you understand it. Oh, but there is something I need to tell you. He's having problems with depression. He's very, very sad all the time. Maybe if you played the music and he saw the colors that it makes, it will make him happy again."

"What's his name?"

"Michael. Michael Bonhomme. I call him the professor, because he's a literature professor. You remember when Gabe came over here? He's Gabe's father."

"Oh! Why didn't you say? I want to meet him!"

So Tuesday afternoon, Peter met Emma at the hospital and drove to D. C. He tried to explain more about Michael, but he wasn't sure how much she understood since she couldn't look directly at his lips. And he knew so little sign language. Once when they stopped at a red light, he spelled out to her, "A-U-T-I-S-T-I-C."

"Just like his son!" she said enthusiastically.

"Uh, yeah, kinda. Not exactly though. They're on different parts of the spectrum." He didn't think she understood that, and he wasn't sure how to explain.

"So, does he have the same power that I do?"

"I don't really know. He has another power. He can change into any shape he wants and change anything into anything he wants. But still, he might. I remember what I saw so vividly. On the other hand, I think Gabe once told me that the professor has synesthesia." He didn't know the sign for that one, or how to spell it, and Emma didn't respond.

They briefly met Noah as he was walking out the door. He gave Peter some information and headed out. Then Peter said to Emma, "You like pizza?"

She smiled. "I love pizza!"

"Large pepperoni? Will that be good?"

"Sure."

"I'll order it, then. You go ahead and make yourself at home."

Emma walked into the living room and found a man sitting on a couch, his head buried in his hands. His shoulders were shaking as though he was crying. "Hello!" she said.

He raised his head slightly and looked at her.

She signed to him, "Do you sign?"

He made no response.

"I'm sorry," she said aloud. "I thought you might because your son does. I met your son a few days ago. He's very nice. My name is Emma."

Michael turned away and started to weep again.

Emma sat down next to him. "I don't know what it's like to be autistic, but I do know what it's like to be depressed. If there's anything I can do to help–"

Michael didn't answer but continued to cry.

Emma got up and approached a piano on the other side of the room. "Peter told me that you play. I play too, a little. Can you show me what you see when you play?"

Michael still didn't answer.

"I'll show you." Emma sat on the piano bench, gently touched the piano keys, and played random notes, indulging in their lovely glow. Each note, even though she couldn't hear it, had its own shade, and it was wondrous. It didn't even matter to her that she couldn't hear it because should could tell by the colors its beauty.

Suddenly, she saw a strange glow, like a deep navy, then promptly followed by a dark purple, then navy, then purple again. They were both very faint, then she saw a some light greens and blues. Then navy and purple again, some lighter greens gradually becoming yellow, and then moving up to red and pink. That's when she noticed that Michael was sitting next to her. His hands were on the keys, and his eyes were closed. He paused and started again. She just watched his perfect sound painting of color, and she was convinced that it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

* * *

Claire threw her arms around her adopted father's neck. "So glad to see you! Glad you came."

"Glad to be here, Claire-Bear," he said. "Oh, and I brought a friend."

She looked around his shoulder. "Oh, hi, Gabe!" she said shaking his hand.

"_Bonjour,_ Claire," he replied.

"So, what brings you here?"

"I just wanted to see my old friend again. When your father mentioned this open house, I thought it would be perfect. So, this is Arlington University?"

Claire smiled as she looked around. "Yeah. It's not quite Harvard, but it gets the job done."

"Uh . . . what do you mean?" He thought she was expressing jealousy.

She laughed at his expression and hit his arm. "I'm just messing with you! Come on, I'll show you my dorm."

"I'll be up in a little bit, Sweetheart," Noah said who was talking to another parent.

"Alright, Dad." They went up the stairs. "So, how's it coming, getting together that group?"

"Not very good. Most of the people I know aren't willing to join. There are other people I want to talk to, but I don't know how to contact them, and your father won't help. For instance, I was thinking about that man from Haiti the other day. I wish I knew his number. Heck, I wish I knew his name."

"It's Renee."

He looked at her in shock that she said it so carelessly.

"What? Didn't he ever tell you?" He continued to stare at her, confused, until she broke out laughing. He laughed with her. "But I don't know his number either. Sorry."

"That's alright. Renee, that's something to go on. Of course, there are probably many Haitians named Renee, probably men and women depending on how it's spelled."

"Dad told me about your dad. I'm sorry."

"He's in good hands."

"Well, I'm glad to hear you say that."

"So, how is your life going? Are classes OK?"

"Yeah, pretty good."

"Did they ever find who killed your roommate?"

"Uh, we decided in the end that she did commit suicide. She didn't fall accidently, and she wasn't pushed, so she must have jumped."

"Wow."

"Yeah, part of me still doesn't believe it. But I have a new roommate now, and she's very cool. We just became pledges for a sorority."

"A social club? You're joining one of those party groups?"

"Come on, Gabe, it's part of a normal college life."

Gabe cringed at the word normal. "Claire . . ." he moaned.

"Look, you do college the way you want, and I'll do it the way I want." Now, it sounded like she was offended. Gabe didn't like that. Luckily, though, they finished climbing stairs and were walking down the halls until Claire opened a door. "OK, this is my room!"

"Ah, very nice. It looks spacious and comfortable."

"And this is my roommate, Gretchen," Claire said as she approached a girl sitting at a computer. "Gretch, this is Gabe, a good friend of mine."

A skinny girl with an ear-to-ear smile shook his hand briskly. "Hi! Good to meet you!"

"_Bonjour_," Gabe answered. Gretchen talked on and on, but something else got Gabe's attention. He saw someone else just past Gretchen's shoulder. Once Gretchen took a breath, Gabe asked Claire, "And who's she?"

"What?" Claire asked.

"That other girl. Is she another roommate or just a friend?" Gabe approached the girl and held out his hand. "_Bonjour! Comment t'allez vous?_"

But she didn't shake his hand. In fact, she crossed her arms and gave him a bizarre look.

"You remind me of a friend of mine who works with me. Do you know Astrid F–?"

"Gabe, who are you talking to?" Claire asked.

Gabe turned back to her. "Is there no one there?"

"Uh-uhh," she said shaking her head.

He felt suddenly ashamed. "Oh. I'm sorry. My imagination has been running away with me lately. But it is strange, I . . ." He almost said this was the first time he could see someone that he didn't know, but he thought it would make him look more crazy.

"Claire, I need to powder my nose. Come with me?" Gretchen said softly.

"Sure," Claire nodded. "We'll be right back, Gabe."

He knew that was a euphemism for going to the restroom, but he never understood it. He also didn't understand why Claire had to go with her. So he figured that they were really leaving to talk about how crazy he is out of his hearing.

He turned back to the girl, and she was still there. He reached out to try to touch her nose, and to his surprise, she grabbed his wrist and held it so tightly it hurt. Gabe screamed. Then she looked into his face and said through gritted teeth, "Keep your mouth shut." And she let go. He backed away and hyperventilated. He rubbed his wrists and saw a very small finger-shaped bruise. The girl stared him down coldly.

Gabe's assumptions were correct. As Claire and Gretchen headed in the direction of the bathroom, Gretchen asked, "So, what's his damage? Is he a schizo or something?"

"No," Claire answered shaking her head. "He's autistic."

"Oh man! That stinks!"

"Well, it's Asperger's Syndrome. It's supposed to be one of the milder cases."

"Well, does he ever act like that?"

"I don't think so, but I guess I don't know him that well." Just then, they heard a scream come from their room. "Gabe?" Claire ran back and saw the panicked look on his face. "What's the matter?"

He looked at her. "We need to talk, privately."

Claire forced a smile and nodded. "OK."

"Come on."

"Now?"

"I'm just visiting here; I'm about to leave! This cannot wait!" He took her wrist and tried to slam shut the door.

"What are you doing?"

"Don't you have a key? Lock the door!"

"Lock Gretchen out?"

"She has a key!"

"Well, maybe not on her!"

"You'll understand in a minute."

"I'm not locking the door! Just leave it. Come on."

* * *

Emma continued to be mesmerized as she watched Michael. Peter, after he had ordered the pizza, stood in the doorway with the phone still in his hand and stared at the piano. The music was lovely, and the colors really added to the effect. He just didn't understand why it wasn't as powerful as it was when he first met the professor. The music was much more sophisticated and complex than ever, but he didn't get as strong a synesthetic reaction.

After about five minutes, though, things changed. Michael started mashing the pedal under the piano and playing the keys very hard. The colors started to become so bright that they made Emma squint, even the darker colors became too unbearable to look at. And then Emma could feel the walls shake and saw furniture around her vibrating, and she thought about how that shot of sound and color cracked her wall. So she shouted, "Stop!" But he didn't stop. His eyes were still closed, and he looked like he was playing this music with every fiber of his being. Then she yelled again, "STOP!" and she grabbed him and threw him to the floor.

Michael started screaming, and he curled into fetal position and covered his ears. Emma stood and looked at him, panicked. Peter just looked at her as if silently asking, "What have you done?"

* * *

Claire and Gabe went outside to a bench. He continued to search around uncomfortably. Then he looked closely at Claire. "The girl . . . she's real."

"What are you talking about?"

"The girl I saw, the one you couldn't see. I thought it was strange that it was like that. I usually can tell when they are in my mind, when they're not real, and everyone I've seen were people I know in real life, and I've never seen her before. She's real. She attacked me, see?" Gabriel showed her his wrist.

Claire examined his wrist, but her face was still full of doubt.

"She told me, '_ferme la bouche_.'"

"Then why are you telling me about this?"

"Because she might be dangerous. If she's in your room and you can't see her, she might hurt you. I got a feeling that she intended to."

"What did she look like, some sort of ghost?"

"Well, she was clearly of African descent."

"What?"

"Of African descent! You say African American, but what if she's not from America? She's tall, she has a white top and a black skirt, and she has wavy, black hair. She looks so much like someone I work with, Astrid Farnsworth."

"I know someone who looks like that. Her name's Becky. She's in my sorority."

"So you see, she's real!"

"Gabe . . ." Claire sighed, "what if she's not? What if she is a figment of your imagination, brought on by your autism?"

"I think . . . I think she is like Monsieur Rains. You remember him? She could be invisible, just like him."

"Gabe, please, just stop. I don't want all this craziness."

"You think I am crazy? Do you think I did this to myself?"

"I don't care, Gabe! I don't want to think about all these abilities and my old life. I just want to be normal!"

"Claire, Claire, has your father not told you? I was sure you'd figure out on your own–there's no such thing as normal!"

Claire laughed.

"I'm serious! It's a socially defined concept, an illusion!"

"But it's everywhere, Gabe! How can it not be real if it's everywhere? You know, I think you just say that so that you feel comfortable as an autistic."

"I say it because it's true! It's not true just for people who are autistic. Plenty of NT people aren't so-called 'normal.'"

"Gabe, I don't wanna talk about this anymore. Let me just live my life on my own." She got up and walked away. As Claire left, Gabe saw the girl standing just past Claire's shoulder. She smirked at him and walked away. Gabe brought his knees to his chest. If only Monsieur Rains was here.

* * *

"What did you do that for?" Peter asked angrily.

"He was about to tear the room apart!" Emma answered loudly (she could feel it on her vocal chords). "Didn't you see it? Didn't you feel it?"

"I heard it. It was a real piece, Emma, a real, classical piece. I heard that Lang Lang guy play it on TV once. I think it was called 'Evening Harmony' by Franz Liszt, and it gets kinda dramatic around the end, and then it goes back to being soft. It's a really complex piece, and I was very impressed that he was playing it."

"There's no way I could have known that, but I knew things that you didn't! I knew he was going to destroy this room!"

"How?"

"I told you, I've been having problems with this power. The other night, I was playing a cello, and I played a note too hard, and it cracked my wall!"

"Well, I've never seen him do anything like that. Maybe he doesn't have your power after all."

"He's had his eyes closed the whole time."

"I saw that, like he was immersed in the music."

"I didn't mean to upset him so."

"Why don't you go apologize?"

She nodded. "OK." She walked back to Michael and sat down on her knees. "I'm sorry," she said as she signed with a very sad look on her face.

But she went back to acting like she didn't exist.

Emma turned away and closed her eyes for a moment. Then she started doing a strange sign. She rolled her fists around each other like a wheel, then she opened her palms and stretched them out and made small circles. She did this sign over and over. Peter wasn't sure what she was doing, until she made an "O" shape with both hands, drew an arch with them, then with her right hand made a capital "L" and pointed it on her left shoulder and brought it down across her to her right hip. Then he remembered that he learned this song in Bible camp years ago, and he learned it entirely in sign language. So he came closer to her, and he sang softly,

Someone's crying, Lord,

Kum ba yah.

Someone's crying, Lord,

Kum ba yah.

Someone's crying, Lord,

Kum ba yah.

Oh Lord, kum ba yah.

Someone's praying, Lord,

Kum ba yah.

Someone's praying, Lord,

Kum ba yah.

Someone's praying, Lord,

Kum ba yah.

Oh Lord, kum ba yah.

Someone's sin–

"Wait. What's that?"

"Someone needs you," Emma answered.

Peter nodded and continued,

Someone needs you, Lord,

Kum ba yah.

Someone needs you, Lord,

Kum ba yah.

Someone needs you, Lord,

Kum ba yah.

Oh Lord, kum ba yah.

Come by here, my Lord.

Come by here.

Come by here, my Lord.

Come by here.

Come by here, my Lord.

Come by here.

Oh Lord, come by here.

Michael looked up with a different expression that was hard to place. It was something like relief, but there was also wonder and perhaps even a hint of joy. Emma touched his arm gently and said, "You can play it again, if you want. I won't stop you. It was very beautiful."

He only stared up at her and her smile. He wasn't crying anymore.

* * *

Noah found Gabe still sitting on the bench, still curled up. "You alright?"

"I wanna go home," Gabe said softly.

He nodded. "OK, let's go."

* * *

At the carnival, the girl appeared outside Samuel's trailer. "Rebecca! What a pleasant surprise."

"I got a problem, Uncle Samuel," Becky said. "There was someone there who could see me."

Samuel gave her an odd look. "And how's that?"

"I don't know! He just looked at me, and he even tried to talk to me. I mean, I'm not entirely worried. He was just a visitor, and Claire didn't take him too seriously. I heard her say he's autistic. And obviously, he's a boy, so he can't be in the sorority. But still, if he's on to me, he could stop me, right?"

"Well, did you get his name?"

"Claire called him . . . Gabe?"

"Gabe?"

A few minutes later, he went back into his trailer and watched as the ink he injected into Lydia's bare back formed into a face. "This is Gabriel, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Lydia answered.

He knelt down and looked at her. "You told me he was a polyglot. What does that have to do with seeing the invisible?"

"I also told you that there were parts of him I couldn't put a finger on. I think that's one of them." She closed her eyes and concentrated very hard. "Yes, there's a strange aura around him, like a barrier, a . . . resistance."

"Well, he wouldn't be able to resist Edgar's blades, would he?" Rebecca offered. "I say he go carve him up."

"No, we're not doing that. I still think he might be of use to us," Samuel mused.

"What? And what if he sabotages my plan?"

"We'll take care of that when and if it happens. Gabriel's close to becoming part of the family. Though I must say, this resistance doesn't bode well for us. If he resists us, he will always be an outsider." He sat back. "Wait a minute. He said his name was Gabriel. Well, wouldn't that be interesting? Just like yin and yang." He got up and went to the door.

"Samuel, what are you thinking?" Lydia asked.

"I'll tell you later, but I just might have a way to solve our other problem," he answered as he left.

* * *

When Noah came back to his apartment, Peter told him a little bit about what happened. Noah nodded and thanked them, and Peter and Emma left. He came in and saw Michael at the piano again, playing the very end of a classical piece. "So, you're playing again," Noah said. "That's progress."

Michael took his hands off the keys and said softly, "How did he die?"

Noah stopped, amazed that he spoke again, but then he thought about the question. "I'd rather not tell you." And before Michael could say anything else, he went to his bedroom.

To be continued . . .


	6. Yin and Yang

Chapter 6: Yin and Yang

When Gabe returned to his dorm, he was exhausted, so he went straight to bed. His mind was full of thoughts that haunted him as his head hit the pillow, thoughts from the previous few days, all memories of what his friends have told him:

"Sorry. Not for me."

"Um, Gabe, right now's not a good time."

"I'm just not ready for it. So count me out."

"I hate to tell you this, but I think you're making a huge mistake."

"Gabriel, I've done something bad. I knew it would not lead to good, and I didn't want to do it, but it happened. I hope you can forgive me."

"I'm really sorry, but I can't talk right now. I really got a lot on my plate."

"I don't want to think about all these abilities and my old life. I just want to be normal!"

"Shut up! Just SHUT UP!"

"I'm dying."

"Gabe, I don't wanna talk about this anymore. Let me just live my life on my own."

"When you try to change the world, something happens to make it crash all around you. It's better not to try."

"Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver, the other is gold."

And all these thoughts mixed together finally made Gabe's loneliness come out. He turned onto his stomach and began to weep, wiping his nose on his pillow. It was just becoming more and more evident to him, his friends were going out of his life. Soon, they would all be gone.

Suddenly–

"Crying in a carnival? Oh, we can't have that, can we?"

Gabe looked up, and he saw he was standing outdoors at the same carnival he saw in his dreams a few nights ago. And that same dark man who destroyed Hanami, Sam, was standing before him in the same black leather garb. He greeted Gabe with a smile and outstretched arms. "Welcome back," he whispered.

"How did I get here?"

"All in good time, boy." Sam put his arm around Gabe, took out a handkerchief, and started wiping his eyes. "Now tell me, what's wrong?"

"All my friends are . . . leaving me. I'm alone."

Sam chuckled at that. "Well, it's just like I told you when we last met. It's time to make new friends. Actually, I am here to help you do just that. Because there is someone I want you to meet."

"Is that so? Who?"

Sam just smiled. "Come with me."

He led Gabe while he was still under Sam's arm. Gabe asked, "Have you had any luck finding Hanami?"

"Not yet, but I'm not giving up. There is a chance that they might know where she is."

He walked past several booths and then started to approach a silk tent. At that, Gabe hesitated. "A fortune teller's booth? _Non, non_ I shouldn't."

But Sam touched his arm. "Gabriel, for a moment, please, forget what you believe. Check your morals at the door." And he added with a chuckle, "This is just a dream, after all."

Gabe didn't like this, but he realized that Sam had a point. It was just a dream, and there was probably no way of stopping what's coming next. So as the mysterious carny beckoned, Gabe followed. Inside was a simple, velvet-draped table with a standard crystal ball in the center. The young man sat in a plush chair.

"We are very privileged in the Sullivan Carnival," Sam said. "We have not just one very accurate fortune teller, but two. And you are most fortunate, Gabe, for it's very rare that they do a reading simultaneously. They both have unique methods of their craft." At this, he opened the tent flap and welcomed a very slender, blonde woman. "This is Lydia who knows who you are, inside and out."

As Lydia sat next to Gabe, he saw her tattoos down her arms, and he remembered. "Hey, you're the secretary!"

She looked at him and scoffed, "Secretary? Maybe in another life."

"Pardon, I must have mistook you for someone else." But he wondered, didn't Sam call her Lyddie? And it would explain how she knew who he was just by shaking his hand.

"And this," Samuel said breaking him out of his reverie, "is Sarah who can show you who you will be in her own time."

Gabe was very surprised to see a little girl sit on the other side of him. She looked about 10-12 years old with wavy, black hair. She was wearing all sorts of necklaces of many colors, and she had a ring on each finger. Her dress was red satin. She looked at him but didn't smile. Her lips were deep red, and her eyes were a piercing blue.

Gabe nodded. "Alright. Pleased to meet you both. Now, let's get this over with."

"Oh, we can't start yet, Gabriel," Sam said. "We have another guest."

"I thought you said there were two."

"I said there were two fortune tellers. There is another coming to have his fortune told."

"Why?"

"Because he's lost, forgetful. We've harbored him the past few days as he tried to find himself. Perhaps the three of you together can help him." He smiled at Gabe's unanswered question and lifted the tent flap.

Immediately, Gabe tensed up when he saw the man enter. The guest only looked at him in silent confusion. "Gabriel," Sam announced, "meet Gabriel."

Sylar approached the table nervously and said softly, with a weak smile, "_Bonjour, Gabriel. Comment t'allez vous?"_ Immediately, he put his hand over his lips and whispered, "I speak French?"

"Oh, so you _do _know him."

"I-I-I don't know how."

"I know how," Gabe answered.

"Have a seat," Sam said softly to Sylar. Gabe didn't feel comfortable with his deep breathing and his eyes staring straight into him. "Lydia, if you please?"

Lydia put her hands on both Gabriels' shoulders. "Yes, they know each other. They have a long history. They are enemies."

"So he's not . . . " Gabe thought aloud.

"Enemies?" Sylar echoed in a whisper.

"But both of them now are overflowing with fear and confusion," Lydia said.

"I thought that might be the case," Sam said. He circled the table and put his hand on Gabe's shoulder. "So why is that, young Gabriel? Why are you afraid? Why fear what you do not understand?"

"I understand enough," Gabe answered. "He's tried to kill me several times. I've seen him kill my friends and others in cold blood. Every time I've seen him, he is evil to the core. And he keeps wanting me to be like him."

"Gabe . . ." Sylar whispered.

"But I don't understand how this can be the Sylar I know. He's dead. I watched as his corpse burned. I always thought, deep down inside, that he really was alive, but how could it be? How could my eyes deceive me?"

"Never mind that," Sam whispered. "You're letting your mind be clouded by your own misconceptions, by your hate. But you'll get past this. Both of you, close your eyes." Gabe didn't want to, but he followed the instruction. "Now, breathe. Deeply. That's it, now let it out. Feel the good earth fill you. Listen only to the beating of your own heart. Once more. There. Now, OPEN UP YOUR MIND! Feel your full potential! Don't feel so primitive anymore! Don't hold yourself back! LET IT OUT!" Gabe wasn't sure what he was asking, just that his loud voice was startling and disturbing. "Now, all of you, reach out and put your hand on the crystal. Behold what Sarah will reveal."

So Gabe, with his eyes still closed, groped forward until he felt the curve of the glass. He could feel the fingertips of everyone else surface. Gabe could see from behind his eyelids a flash of light. And then . . .

Suddenly, he felt very cold and wet. He could feel ice water cut into him like thousands of knives. He ached! He couldn't breathe! Where did all this water come from? Frantically, he moved his arms and felt them cut through the water. This was horrible! How deep was he? He couldn't swim! He finally opened his eyes, which stung with water, but he could see that he had broken the surface. He was in the middle of some fierce rapids being swept away. He only managed to hold onto a tree root, but it was breaking. Then he heard his name. He turned toward where the voice was calling and saw someone swimming toward him. The swimmer got hold of a rock near Gabe, as he pulled himself up, Gabe saw it was Sylar.

He reached out to Gabe. "Come on. I'll save you."

"_Pour quoi?"_ (For what?) Gabe asked derisively.

"You have to believe me. Things are different now! Come on . . . Namesake!" He continued to reach out, but all Gabe saw was one finger pointed straight at his forehead. He screamed and let go. And then he was falling . . . falling . . . falling . . .

And then all was dark. Gabe even wondered a moment if he was dead, until he heard another whisper in his ear. "Well, that was even more frightening, wasn't it?"

"What was that?" Gabe asked.

"It could very well be your future, unless it's changed. Sarah's visions are rarely wrong. But young Gabriel, listen to me. It's good that you're scared because you need to be a little frightened, a little unsettled, a little uncomfortable. You see if you keep on the way you are, you'll die long before you're dead. You'll die inside of loneliness and emptiness. Worse than that, you'll never reach your full potential. You'll never know what it's like to truly fly. The man across from you is not a hero, but he's not your enemy either. In fact, he is exactly what you need." Gabe felt him come closer to his ear as he whispered, "For remember this above all. As long as you extend a hand of kindness to your brothers, all of your brothers, then a special piece of Paradise is reserved for you . . . forever . . . and ever."

After a moment, Gabe heard a loud bang, and he opened his eyes. Everyone was gone from the table, except Sylar, who had just slammed his hands down on the table and stood up. "He's right, Gabriel."

"What are you doing?" Gabe asked.

Sylar moved closer. "You have to open your heart. Accept me. Forgive me. Gabe, I know I've done wrong, but you have to understand that I've done nothing without some shred of integrity, without feeling that I was doing the right thing! That's something your mother taught me, Gabe. Yes, I remember her now."

"How can you bring her up?"

Then Sylar fell on his knees, reached out to Gabe, and even started crying. "Gabriel, please. Forgive me. Open your heart! LET ME IN!"

Gabe stood, still very confused about the whole matter. The drowning vision was still so clear, but so many thoughts flooded along with it. So he simply shook his head and ran out of the tent, then ran as fast as he could out of the casino. Sylar started running after him calling his name, but the young man vanished. Frustrated, Sylar stopped chasing him and stood in the middle of the crowd listening to the many carnies hocking their wares.

Meanwhile in Boston, Gabe woke up. He sat for his bed for a while and pondered the dream. He didn't dare trying to go back to sleep. He didn't want to risk going back tonight.

* * *

"That was a disaster," Samuel said that morning.

Lydia snorted. "At least you weren't beaten to a pulp this time."

He looked over at Sylar. "I apologize about that. I truly thought Gabriel would be helpful."

"No, it's OK," Sylar said. "It was me, I think. Those things I said, I don't know where they were coming from. It felt like I wasn't the one saying them."

"Perhaps they're from that other personality in you, Nathan."

"That's not just another personality, though. I feel like it's supposed to be me, but . . . at the same time, it's not."

"It's alright. I still want to help you. I'm still doing what I can."

Sylar nodded. "I appreciate that, Samuel." Then, he got up to leave.

When he was gone, Samuel turned to Lydia and got his brush. "What we need is someone who knows him who is not afraid of him, someone who might even love him or be his friend. Is there anyone who is like that?" He watched as the ink dissolved in her back and it formed into a face.

"That's interesting," Lydia said. "It's Gabriel's father, Michael Bonhomme. He's been mourning for Sylar several months. He thinks Sylar's dead."

"Well, I gotta go clear that up."

* * *

"Cainan, Georgia," Peter read on the report. He looked at Noah. "You ready?"

"Yeah," Noah nodded, but then he turned to his adopted daughter. "Uh, Claire, if you don't mind, while you're doing your laundry, could you keep an eye on Mr. Bonhomme for me?"

Claire nodded. "No problem, Dad."

"Thanks, Claire-Bear," Noah said kindly. Peter put his hand on Noah's shoulder, and they both disappeared.

She went into the other room. Michael had begun playing "Moonlight Sonata." She sat down and smiled at him. "A Snuggie! Oh man, I'm so jealous. Where'd you get that?" But Michael didn't answer. "Those things look so comfy. Geeky, but comfy. It kinda looks good on you." Still, he didn't respond. "Okaaay. Well, I gotta get a load started. I'll be right back. If you need anything, let me know."

As soon as she walked out of the room, Michael heard another voice. "You could tell her what you really need."

"It won't lead anywhere," Michael answered. "She won't know anything."

"But you don't know that, do you Michael?"

Michael stomped on the pedals under the piano and kept pressing them down as he played.

Sylar just scoffed. "You think you're gonna block me out with that? This is a song meant to be played softly."

"I don't want to hear you anymore! You're dead!"

"I'm not dead, Michael! For goodness sake, you're the only person I'd ever known who'd want to help me."

"I can't help you. I don't even know how I can. Bennet won't even tell me how you died."

"Of course, he's not going to tell you. He's a spy. Everything he's done is top secret. You have to spy on the spy."

"No, there's nothing to find. Nothing!" Suddenly, Michael was struck with deep sadness again. He stopped playing, put his head on the piano, and began to cry again.

Samuel cautiously crept into the apartment, following the sounds of weeping. When he found the man with his head buried on the piano, he knelt down to his level and said gently, "Friend, why do you mourn the livin'?"

It worked. Michael immediately stopped crying, lifted his head, and looked at Samuel with a bewildered expression.

Samuel smiled and held Michael's hand. "That's right, Michael. Sylar is alive, but he needs your help. I'm here to take you to him."

Michael looked past the strange visitor and could see Sylar looking back at him almost to say, "I told you so."

A few moments later Claire came back in saying, "OK, Mr. Bonhomme, let's–" but then she put her basket down and stared in amazement. All she saw was a blue Snuggie draped around the piano bench.

* * *

Once Gabe was awake, he contemplated being alone again. For the first time in a while, he wished to be back in Paris with people who were at least acquaintances, who were familiar. Perhaps then he wouldn't feel so lonely.

As he checked his email, he noticed that he got a message from Micah. He started the Facebook group and had a link posted. Gabe clicked on the link. The site looked good. Then he noticed on the side that over a hundred people had already joined. He smiled. At least he found some people who cared about this. But as he scrolled down and read their posts on the Wall, he realized that most of them didn't take this seriously. Most of them compared themselves to various comic book heroes and posted silly pictures imitating them. Some posts even said, "Is this a joke?" And then there was one post at the bottom written in all-caps and full of obscenities that basically talked about how horrible having a superbility is. That felt like a punch in the gut.

He got his cellphone and dialed a number on a business card. "Hey, Mr. Weiss? Busy day at the bowling alley?"

* * *

After getting Jeremy settled about his power, Noah got a call on his cellphone. He recognized the ringtone. "Claire, what's wrong?"

"Dad, I just left to do a load of laundry for just a few minutes, and when I came back, Mr. Bonhomme's gone! I can't find him anywhere!"

"Did he leave a note?"

"No! He's just gone!"

"Alright. Let's not panic, not until we heard the worst. I'm afraid I can't get away right now. Keep looking for him, but if you don't find him immediately, don't worry about it. He is a grown man after all. He can take care of himself." Soon after, he hung up, but he didn't feel right about this.

* * *

Samuel led Michael by the hand through the carnival, and then he pointed to a man in the distance. "There he is."

It did look like him. Michael came up to him slowly, looking up at his face gradually. "Gabriel?" he said in a weak voice.

The man turned his face to him and smiled. "Michael! I know you! You're Michael! It's good to see you!" He threw his arms around Michael's neck, but then he pulled away with a look of confusion on his face. "I'm sorry. I feel like I know you, but . . . I don't."

"What happened to you? How did you come here? I saw you . . . burn."

"I don't know. All I remember was I was in the woods. I can't remember before then."

"So, you don't remember who you are?"

"Actually, I know who I am. They showed me. They revealed my past to me. All those awful things I've done. All the people I've hurt, killed. I can't get those terrible images out of my head. I don't want that to be me. I just wish there was a way to wipe the slate clean, make it all go away."

"There is."

Sylar looked at him closely. "What do you mean?"

"Well, of course you can't bring those people back to life. You can't change what happened. But you can obtain forgiveness. You can have a clean slate in God's eyes and become a new creature. If that's what you want."

"What's to hinder me?"

* * *

Gabe leaned his head back on the hard wall. "Nathan and Peter are too busy for me. Matt and Claire don't want to talk to me. I can't get in touch with Mohinder. Claude's dead, Hiro's dying, and Hanami's gone forever. I was right; I have to let these friends go. But I'm not ready to let them go. I need them."

"Yeah?" Sam Weiss answered. "So, how you coming with your sudoku?"

"Oh. Well, I am fairly good. I brought the booklet over." He handed it to him. "A lot of times, I messed up and couldn't fix it, or sometimes there were so many possibilities, I just couldn't solve it. But it was rather enjoyable. It gave me something to do. I still don't really see what this has to do with anything."

As Sam flipped through the book, he said, "Oh, I see you did this in pencil."

"Yes, I am sure there is no way to do them in pen. How can you erase when you make a mistake?"

"That's a good question. Did you know that 'sudoku' comes from the Japanese word for 'single'?"

Gabe blinked a few times. If that were true, he wondered why it never translated in his ears. He supposed it was because he mastered Japanese already. "I never thought of that. Is it because it's a puzzle for single people?"

"No, but it can be. It's because only a single can fit in a box. You see, Gabe, I have a theory about why these are so popular."

"Why?"

"Because we want our lives to be like this. We pick out our dream jobs in kindergarten. We pick our spouses in high school. We think we have our whole lives figured out by the time we graduate, everything put in neat, little boxes. Of course, that's not really how it works. A lot of times, stuff happens. You can't get hired for that job. Your girl dumps you or, God forbid, dies in an accident. Then you're left with an empty box that you can't figure out how to fill." He stopped flipping through the sudoku book and gestured with his fingers, saying, "Come here." Gabe got up and looked over Sam's shoulder. He was pointing with his pencil to one of the puzzle was nearly solved. All that remained were two boxes in the same column that had empty spaces in the same places. "I actually like when this happens. It gives you more options. You see, it could be solved this way." He put an 8 and a 5 in the spaces in the top box then a 5 and an 8 in the bottom box. Then he erased them both. "Or it could be solved this way." And then he reversed them. "Either way, it works."

He turned around and looked at Gabe. "That's what you gotta do. You can't just throw up your hands and say, 'I can't solve this! I can't fit it in this box.' You gotta realize that other things can fit in the box, and it can still work. And always, always, always do your puzzles in pencil. That way, when you know it's not working out, just erase your mistakes and move on. Even if it takes a while to back track, even if you have to start over."

"How can it be that simple?"

"Well, think about this group your trying to start. Surely you'll find new friends in that. And I don't mean to call you Shirley." Gabe gave him an odd look. "Yeah, that's supposed to be a joke. _Airplane!_ Good movie. Really, I dare you to watch it and not laugh."

"I don't think anybody is going to take it seriously without my friends' support."

"That's not true! Olivia takes it serious, doesn't she? So do the people she works with. That's the reason they hired you, isn't it?"

"But they don't have abilities."

"Hey, hey! That's definitely a lie. _Everybody _has abilities, talents, gifts. Otherwise, we'd all be defined by our flaws. You don't want to be defined by your flaws, do you?"

"_Non, non_, I mean–"

"We may not have the same abilities that you're concerned about, but that doesn't matter. Remember your disgust for the word 'normal'? It's because you don't want to fit into a category that you can't fit, right? Well, if that's the case, you can't fit people like us there either. You can't just count us out. I mean, if you really believe that there's no such thing as normal, you gotta start acting like it."

Gabe sat back down. He hadn't thought about that either.

* * *

Michael and Sylar talked about what needed to be done, and Sylar was ready to do it, even though at the first mention Sylar said he'd done it a few nights ago. As they continued to discuss it, they decided it was best for him to do it again. On the way there, Michael got distracted. He thought he saw someone familiar as he passed by the fortune teller's booth. He came in closer and lifted the tent flap. He gasped. "I remember you! So, you got out too? What are you doing here?"

"Michael! This way!" Sylar called out.

"Coming!" Michael yelled back. Then he turned and said, "Well, it was nice seeing you again."

He joined Sylar at the front of the carnival, and they both got into the baptistry. "Gabriel," Michael said with a deep breath, "do you believe that Jesus is the Son of God and that He alone is your Savior?"

"With all my heart, yes," Sylar answered.

"What are you doing?" a voice called out. They saw a figure coming toward them quickly, who turned out to be Samuel. "Oh, you don't need to do this again, brother. You're still part of our family."

"We decided I did!" Sylar called back.

"You didn't baptize him into the Lord; you baptized him into this family, whatever that means," Michael answered. "There's nothing mentioned about that in the Bible. His sins have not been washed away."

"I know that," Samuel answered.

"You do?" Sylar asked.

"But we may still need him to be a sinner for the things we need him to do."

Michael was furious. "You would gamble with a man's soul for your own gain? How selfish!"

"You don't understand!"

Michael took another deep breath and looked fiercely at Sylar. He said very loudly, "Gabriel, upon hearing your confession, I now baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, for the forgiveness of your SINS!"

"Sylar, don't do it!"

But Michael covered Sylar's mouth with a handkerchief and pushed Sylar back into the water until he was all the way in. Then, he lifted him out of the water, looked straight at Samuel, and said, "Sylar is dead."

"So are you." Samuel quickly clenched both of his fists, but Michael grabbed Gabriel's shoulders, and they were both surrounded by a green glowing force field. Even though Samuel was using his powers to split the baptistry in two, they didn't even feel it vibrate. Then, Michael turned into a hawk and changed Gabriel into a branch, and he flew away with the branch in his talons to safety.

Once they were out of sight, Michael changed them back. "I suppose I am not welcome here anymore, but that can be expected to anyone following the call. You know, I'm staying with Bennet. He's been taking good care of me. If you'd like, you could–"

"No, thank you," Gabriel replied. "I'd like to stay here a little longer."

"What? Why, after what he said?"

"They're good people down there. And I know they'll welcome me back. He said I was welcome there to the end of my days. They're just trying to help me find myself, and I need to. There's so much about who I am that I still don't know."

Michael slowly nodded. "Very well. It's your choice, Gabriel. Just don't forget Whose you are."

"I won't," Gabriel nodded. With that, Michael again became a hawk and flew away.

* * *

At Harvard that evening, Gabe was staring at the Facebook page for his group and still contemplating what Mr. Weiss told him. How does he fill in the boxes now? Who is on his side? How could he consider his new employers his friends? How could they help him?

Then his cellphone rang. Gabe answered, "_Allo?_"

"Hey, it's me," Bennet said. "I need your help."

* * *

A frustrated Claire brought in the last load of laundry, and she heard piano music. She rushed into the living room and saw Michael there. "Where've you been?! I've been looking all over you! Wasted the only free day I have in the week."

"Where's your father?" he replied.

"Oh, and you're talking now?"

He just looked at her.

Claire sighed. "Dad's in Georgia. He's looking for a boy who's a healer to take care of Hiro. He's–"

"I know. I've been praying for him. Well, whenever he comes back, I'd like to talk to him."

"I'll call him right away. He'll want to know that I found you."

Michael nodded. "Alright." Claire went into the other room and started dialing. Michael turned back to the piano keys, but then something caught his eye. He turned around and saw the Sylar wearing glasses again. "Why are you still here?"

"It's not over, Michael. I went into his mind when you gave him a hug, but there was something strange. There was someone there that wasn't me. So before you left, I went back into your mind. That was my body, Michael, but it wasn't me."

"I don't understand. Who was it I baptized?"

Sylar put his hand on Michael's shoulder. "It was me, and I thank you. I am finally clean."

"Here he is, Dad," Michael heard Claire say. She came in and handed the phone to him.

"Bonhomme, is that you?" Bennet said.

"I was in a cult today," Michael answered.

To be continued . . .


	7. Oppressors

Chapter 7: Oppressors

Gabe waited outside his dorm until a silver convertible pulled up. A lady in a gray suit approached him. "Gabriel, long time no see," she said with a smile.

"Likewise, Mademoiselle Strauss," he replied, shaking her hand.

"Well, hop on in. We got a long drive."

"To Cainan's land, we're on our way, I guess," Gabe said with a laugh.

Tracy snickered along with him. "I don't think it's that kind of Canaan. From what I hear, this is very far from a promised land flowing with milk and honey. It's a small town in the middle of nowhere."

They chatted a little on the drive. Gabe didn't really feel comfortable doing that because he barely knew Tracy Strauss. All he knew was she was Nathan's friend and that she looked a lot like Micah's mother. So most of the way he was quiet. Yet as they got closer, he asked her, "So, do you know what this is all about?"

"Not really. Noah just said he found a kid with abilities, and he's in trouble."

"That's about what he said with me, too."

"I just can't figure out why he called us, especially you. I mean, maybe with me he's looking for someone to find a loophole for this kid, but what does he want with a twenty-year-old Harvard student?"

"I don't know, especially when he told me he doesn't agree with me on these matters and he doesn't want to help me."

"Help you with what?"

Gabe would have told her, but at that moment, they pulled up. They saw Noah waiting for them. He explained the whole issue about Jeremy. Gabe did a double-take at his name. Noah noticed. "Something wrong?"

Gabe shook his head. "It could be nothing."

"Here's the situation. They won't release him to me because I'm not family, but it turns out that the kid is very fond of his Aunt Tracy, and of course his cousin Gabriel."

Gabe shook his head. "I'm not his cousin, and Tracy's not my–"

"Gabe, we're pretending," Noah whispered. He looked at Tracy. "Just go in, talk to him, sign him out."

She shook her head. "I don't know."

"He's got nobody! You've been there, both of you have." After heaving a heavy sigh, Tracy went in.

"But I don't understand," Gabe said. "What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to talk to him, too, Gabe. Tell him about your group. Tell about how his ability can empower him."

"I thought you weren't going to support me."

"If anyone needs to be in that group, it's him. And I'm kinda curious to see what you'll say."

"OK, I'll do it." He went inside, but as he looked into the windows of the room where Jeremy was being held, Gabe stopped short and even stumbled back. "My goodness," he gasped.

"What's the matter?"

"That boy, I recognize his face. I saw his picture on the Facebook group Micah started for me. He said some very terrible things, very hurtful things. I can't go in there. I can't talk to him. He already hates me."

* * *

"Alright!" Gabriel Gray said, clapping his hands. "This is what I'm talkin' about! We're finally alone, no one to babysit us. Now, we can really do some snooping." He started to walk on, but Michael still sat on the piano bench like a bump on a log. "Come on, Michael. You now know I'm alive. What more needs to motivate you?"

"I just don't understand," Michael said. "We found you, but we didn't find you. It just doesn't make sense that you are still here. If that wasn't Gabriel, who was it?"

Gabriel rubbed his forehead. "It's hard to explain."

"Just what are we looking for?"

Gabriel sighed. "You're a literature professor, right? Have you read Robert Louis Stevenson, 'Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde'?"

"I haven't officially read it, but I am familiar enough with the concept."

"Well, the whole theory around it is, it's kinda trite actually. Every man has the capacity to do good and the capacity to do evil. You know, in Eastern philosophy, it's the concept of yin and yang. The apostle Paul even talks about the carnal nature and the spiritual nature of man."

"So you're saying you're Gabriel's . . . spirit? His good side?"

"I guess one way I could say it is . . . I am Gabriel Gray. We're looking for Sylar."

"But Paul says you have to put off the carnal man and become a new creature. Why don't you return to the man we found yesterday and start over? That's what repentance is."

"I want him to be saved, too! I couldn't live with myself if he's still out there. He's part of me. He's my responsibility. I've been letting him control me too long; I need to control him. Besides, as I told you, there's someone else in that man."

"So, it's like he's possessed?"

"Sorta. I don't think he means harm, but it still doesn't feel right."

"And if that's not Sylar, who was it?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. That's something we need to find out."

* * *

Gabe sat in the lobby grabbing both arms of the chair rather tightly. He looked down at the floor and sighed. Noah gave him a cup of coffee, but as he handed it to Gabe he said, "You have to talk to him."

"I can't!" Gabe answered. "He won't listen to me. He'll just shout expletives."

"You don't know that."

"Well, he wouldn't give me the time of day online."

"You don't even have to mention that you have a Facebook group."

"You wanted me to talk about it, though!"

"Gabriel," Noah said as he sat next to him, "every civil rights group has come up against protestors, naysayers, ignorant people. Part of the trick of getting into this game is learning how to deal with such people in a calm way. Hey, I grew up during Martin Luther King. I saw all kinds of things happen to people at that time, but he still kept his composure."

"It's not quite that simple with me."

At that moment, Tracy came out. "Well, he's kinda shaken up, but I think he understands more," she said. "I think he'll be willing to be rehabilitated once we let him out."

"Now's as good a time as any," Noah said to Gabe.

He took a deep breath. "OK." He stood and turned the doorknob.

Jeremy, who was crying, looked up at him. "And who are you, my second cousin?"

"I-I-I guess so. My name's Gabe. Though I suppose you already know that. I know a little bit about you, Jeremy. I saw a post that you wrote on the wall of a Facebook group a couple nights ago."

"You mean where I said–?"

"NO! Please, it was hard enough to read it the first time."

Jeremy scoffed. "Well, it was just how I felt. That group was stupid! They don't care about us. This ability just . . . turned me into a freak. The world doesn't like freaks."

"You're only a freak if that's the way you see yourself. That's kinda the lesson of 'Frankenstein.'"

"Well, how else am I supposed to see myself? I'm not normal!"

"Jeremy, what's normal is a socially defined concept that doesn't really exist."

"That's stupid!"

"No, it's the truth. Think about it. Ever since you were a boy, weren't you taught that everyone's different? How can we be normal if we're all so unique?"

"Nobody else can kill with a touch. And that lady just said I can't get mad anymore! How's that normal?"

"Jeremy, you just have a different set of needs. You just need to be accommodated. Everybody needs that, to find out what their needs are and to have them met. In your case, you may just need to start biofeedback therapy. That works pretty well for me. Or maybe some anti-anxiety or antidepressant medication. But whatever you do, stop defining yourself by your negative qualities. Accept the things you're good at. Embrace them. Celebrate them. What are your strengths, Jeremy?"

"I don't know. Art. I write some pretty good poetry."

"And you heal. If you keep focusing on that, perhaps that'll be what you need. Then, it won't matter what anyone else says if you're happy with yourself, if you're proud of who you are."

Jeremy slowly nodded. "Kay."

"Good. Well, the spy, I mean Monsieur Bennet, and Mademoiselle Strauss will have you out shortly. I'm glad we were able to talk. And if you need any help, please let me know."

"Mmm," Jeremy nodded.

Gabe came out. "There now!" Noah said, smiling. "See? You survived."

"Yeah," Gabe sighed. "So, when are we leaving?"

"Unfortunately, we just hit a snag. Tracy's taking care of it, though."

"Where is she?"

"She went outside to make a call."

But Gabe went to the window, and he couldn't see her anywhere.

* * *

Michael went to Noah's room and flipped through some of his old documents, but he had no idea what he was looking for. Gabriel wasn't really helping, until Michael looked up. "Bennet won't tell me what happened when we all thought you died. So why don't you tell me?"

"Me?" Gabriel said.

"Of course. Who else would I be talking to? As you said, we're alone at last."

"I'm just . . . not sure if I understood what happened myself."

"Tell me what you know."

OK. He had this plot in mind that he was going to shake the president's hand and–"

"Now, when you say 'he,' you mean . . ."

"Sylar. But Peter and Nathan Petrelli came up to foil that plan. And there was this big fight. I don't even remember all that happened, but it made us both weak. He did some really bad things then."

"Like kill my son's friend."

Gabriel nodded. "He was convinced he was fine, and he transformed into a bodyguard and met with the president as planned. But the moment he touched the president's hand, his powers started to work against himself. The president was actually Peter, who stole the shape-shifting power. We were knocked out. And then, something changed. I . . . I remember I . . . I heard a voice. That I couldn't be me anymore, that I was dead, my life was over. It was a man's voice. It sounded familiar. The next thing I knew, I was in another person's head. And at the first opportunity, I got into your head."

"So, we probably need to find someone with mental powers, mind control. Let see, he has a file here." He flipped through reading off names, until he came to, "Parkman, Matt."

"Parkman! Yes, that sounds familiar!"

"Not to me, it doesn't. Well, it says he lives in Los Angeles. You want to try him out, see if he knows anything?"

"What have we got to lose?"

* * *

When Tracy came back, she seemed distracted. Noah told her excitedly that her call did the trick. So, the three of them went in to see Jeremy. "Jeremy, they're letting you go!" Noah said.

"But who am I gonna live with?" Jeremy asked.

"You'll be a few doors down from me in my apartment in D.C. I've set up a new identity for you. Your name is Jarod Mitchell, and you'll be attending Georgetown High School."

"So nobody will know what I can do?"

"You'll learn to control your ability with Tracy's help. But you have to keep it to yourself. It's the only way."

"But one day, things will be different," Gabe spoke up. "One day, they'll accept us."

"What if something happens?"

"Nothing is going to happen," Tracy said, even though she sounded a bit disappointed. "You'll be safe. You'll be . . . invisible."

"He's going to have invisibility powers, too?" Gabe asked.

"I think she means no one will think twice about him," Noah explained.

Gabe nodded and approached Jeremy. "So you gotta take 'freak' out of your vocabulary. You're not a freak. When there's no such thing as normal, there's no such thing as freaks. You understand?"

Jeremy nodded. "Yeah."

"That's good," Noah said. "Alright, let's get out of here."

They silently walked from the holding area, led by the Georgia policemen. But as soon as they got outside, they found a mob of screaming people, claiming that they knew what Jeremy did. Noah told them to head straight for his car. All the people were pushing on every side, and the police were doing very little to stop them. One man ran straight up and grabbed Jeremy. The boy put his hands on the man's chest. His nose started to bleed, and he collapsed. Noah started shouting to Jeremy that he could save the same man's life. The police started shouting for everyone to get back. It was all too much for Gabe. He stiffened and put his hands on his ears. Jeremy didn't even try to save that man. He turned around and went back to the police station. Before he knew it, Gabe felt Noah grab him by the shoulders and shake him. "Why didn't you do anything?!" Gabe couldn't answer.

* * *

Michael knocked on the door repeatedly until he saw a figure stagger over. "Yeah? Whaddayawant?" he slurred.

"Are you Matt Parkman?"

"Dassme!"

"Sir, I came here to ask you some . . . Are you drunk?"

"Oh yeah."

"Hmmm, maybe now's not a good time." He started to turn away, but Gabriel pushed his shoulder. "But evidently, it cannot wait. May I come in?"

"Sure." He opened the door to let him in. "Help yourself to a beer."

"I'd rather not, but I'll get one for you."

"Thanks! 'Skindoyou!"

"What are you doing?" Gabriel asked exasperated as Michael got a long neck from the fridge.

"Getting him sober." He held the bottle firmly as he got the top off. Then he came over to Matt, who was sitting on the couch, and handed the bottle to him. "Here you go!"

Matt pointed at him. "I 'member you. Yourat the funeral, the fake funeral."

"I think I remember you as well. You gave me a hug, even though I didn't know who you were."

"I felt bad for ya, man! Your mournin'!" Matt took a swig from the bottle, then made a face and choked. "This is tea!"

"I'm sorry, sir, but I need your mental faculties. What I want to discuss with you is rather serious."

"Youdonunderstand! Ineedit!"

"You do not need it!"

"No, there's someone in my head, someone dangerous. I'm tryin' ta . . ."

"Is it Sylar?"

Matt looked up with an astonished expression. Gabriel answered instead, "Yes! Yes, it is! I can feel him! He's weak, but he's there."

But Matt said, "Whydoyouask?"

"Because you gave part of him to me."

Matt blinked a few times, but then his expression turned cold and he said darkly, "You."

"What?"

"It's OK, he's talking to me," Gabriel said. "Let me talk to him." At that moment, Michael felt he was pushed aside, and Gabriel was standing in front of Matt. "Hello Sylar." In fact, Matt started to look a little like Sylar.

"I suppose we're looking for the same thing," Sylar said.

"Yes."

"Well, may the best man win."

"If it's a question of winning and losing, I've already won."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"I know where our body is. I was there yesterday."

Suddenly, Matt appeared there and jumped out of his seat. "Don't tell him! I don't want him to know! The things he'll do to–"

"Well, there's no way he could find it, anyway," Michael said. "I didn't even know how we got there."

But Gabriel put his hand on Michael's shoulder, silencing him. He looked back at Sylar. "I'll only tell you if you agree to my terms. You see, I'm different now. I'm a new creature. If you want your body back, you're going to have to change. You'll have to put me in control."

Sylar laughed. "Like I'm going to do that."

"Let me remind you of something. There was a prophecy made to us a few years ago. This path you're on is your destiny, but it doesn't have a happy ending. You are going to die alone and unloved. I've beaten that prophecy once and for all. I'm never going to be alone again. I want you to avoid that fate, too."

Sylar turned furious. He got up and shouted, "OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!" Matt pushed Michael out the door, and this time Michael wasn't sure if it was him or Sylar. "AND DON'T COME BACK!" Then he slammed the door.

* * *

It seemed that all was lost. The policemen weren't going to give another chance. Then, Jeremy went missing, and the policeman in charge of him wouldn't respond. Noah, Tracy, and Gabe went looking for the boy, and then they found his body in the middle of the road. His face was full of deep cuts, and his clothes were torn and dirty.

Tracy wept as she examined his body. "We could have saved him," Noah said dejectedly.

"He needed a home, a real home!" Tracy said.

Gabe's eyes misted with tears as he thought about all the mob, how the police didn't help, and the condition of Jeremy now. "This was a hate crime," he said. "And I'm responsible."

"No, Gabe," Noah answered. "Despite what I said, it's not your fault."

"I feel like I have some of the blame. Out of everything I told him, I didn't say the magic words. I didn't tell him how he could liberate himself. If I did, maybe he could have gotten away."

* * *

"So, now what are we going to do?" Michael asked once they got home. "We found your flesh, and your carnal side. Both ways didn't turn out well."

"We can't give up," Gabriel said. "I think eventually, he'll come around. That prophecy I told him about has always bothered him. He knows it's true."

"Where did you hear that?"

"Hiro Nakamura. It was his future self. Actually, it's a pretty long story."

"I guess until he does come around, I'll take care of you as I would care for myself."

Gabriel laughed. "Because you are!" Michael laughed with him. Gabriel smiled. "You're a good man, Michael. A good brother."

"Thank you."

"And when the time comes, I'll try again. Is that alright?"

"I suppose so. Once Bennet returns, we'll turn our attention to that carnival. Something evil is going on over there. I'm worried not just because of you, but . . . there's a child I used to know there. I can't bare to think of what's happening to her."

"I'll help you."

"Thank you, Gabriel. You're a good brother."

* * *

Gabe followed Tracy back to her car since she was his ride. Noah followed them too, and he apologized, which led to an argument Gabe didn't entirely understand, until the end. "I did what I thought was right, and I was wrong," Noah said. "I've been wrong all these years."

"Do we have to be invisible?" Tracy asked. "Do you ever think we could just live, Noah, out in the open?"

"Not after today, no."

"But we have to!" Gabe blurted out. "We have to, or things like this will just keep happening! We will! One day, we will! Others have done it!"

Noah just sadly shook his head. "I'm sorry, Gabriel. That's just how I feel. I really do admire your enthusiasm and courage, but . . . you're chasing an ideal, and it's just going to lead to heartbreak, to disaster, to more hate crimes like this. As much as you say normalcy doesn't exist, you can't make people believe it."

Gabriel looked at him long and hard in a way he hadn't in a long time. He was afraid.

"Don't ever call me again," Tracy whispered. Then she looked at Gabe and said, "Let's go."

They got into the car, and Tracy started the engine. They watched as Noah walked away. As soon as he was out of sight, Tracy pulled something out of her glove compartment.

"What's that?" Gabe asked.

"When I called Dennis to help us get Jeremy out, a man visited me. He said he could take Jeremy to a home, a place full of people like us, people who'd love him. He was a stranger, and I thought he was crazy. Before he left, he gave me this and told me to use it if I wanted to find my way back again." She held it up–a compass.

"Let me see that." She handed it to him, but once it was in Gabe's palm, it started turning counter-clockwise rapidly. "Whoa! It's going the wrong way! I better give it back to you before I ruin it."

So she took it back. "Wonder why it did that?"

"I don't know. So, where was this home?"

"Believe it or not, it was a carnival."

Gabe's eyes lit up. "Was this man named . . . Sam?"

"Come to think of it, he said his name was Samuel. Does he go by Sam?"

"That's what I've been calling him, and he's never told me that's wrong."

"You know him?"

"I've had a few . . . dreams about him, and the carnival."

"That's kinda weird. But I suppose I can believe it. When I met him, it was sorta like a dream, frightening and confusing. You know, Gabriel I wonder, when you said you should have told Jeremy the magic words, what did you mean?"

"I was too concerned about his self-image. I should have told him who was oppressing him. He went back with those policemen because he trusted them, and this is what they did, or at least allowed to happen."

"You would have told him to use his powers against them? So, the man he killed, it was justified."

"_Non, _that's not what I'm saying. But if he only knew not to trust them, he might have broken free. He could have liberated himself. That's what we need to do, Mademoiselle Strauss. We need to liberate ourselves and seek change that lasts. And now that we know our oppressors, we can't let them control us."

To be continued . . .


	8. The First Step

Chapter 8: The First Step

Gabe tried his best to forget incident. In fact, he was starting to work on forgetting everything having to do with superbilities. He didn't check on the Facebook group. He didn't want to call any of his friends. He didn't concentrate on anything about them as he went to sleep, not even about the parallel universe. He compensated by concentrating on his work with Dr. Bishop and spent a lot more time at the lab helping with top secret experiments. Astrid, Dr. Bishop, Peter Bishop, Agent Dunham, and to some extent Broyles started to feel closer to Gabe. He felt safe with them around, like they were his family.

Just when he thought he got the whole mess out of his hair, one day his cellphone rang.

"_Allo_?" Gabe answered.

"Hey, Gabe." It was Claire.

"Claire? What is it? I thought you didn't want to talk to me anymore."

"Look, I just went through an ordeal. There was this bit of hazing I endured this weekend to get into my sorority. They kidnaped Gretchen and me and took us to a slaughterhouse."

"Well, that wasn't nice."

"Come on, Gabe, that happens in all social clubs."

"Which is why I never joined one."

"Well, just listen. We were attacked, and it was clear to me that it wasn't random. Someone was really trying to hurt us, Gretchen in particular. We discovered it was Becky. She materialized right in front of us."

"So she was invisible."

"That's right. So, are you happy now? You get to say, 'I told you so.'"

"Why would that make me happy?"

"I guess . . . Well, here's the point. I called Dad to help me figure out what's going on with her. We're going to inspect her room at the house. Could you stay with Gretchen and make sure Becky doesn't come? Dad can pick you up while he's on the way."

"Sure, I can do that."

"Great. I'm sure that'll ease her mind. Thanks Gabe."

"_De rien."_ (It's nothing) He hung up and sighed, wondering what he just agreed to. Now that he had a new opinion about the spy, he wasn't sure he liked this arrangement.

About an hour later, Bennet was there to pick Gabe up. He opened the front passenger door of the car. "Well, after you."

"If you don't mind, I would rather sit in the back seat."

"Well, it's not exactly empty back there."

"It's alright. I can squeeze in." He opened the door, buckled up, and saw the Haitian. Gabe gave him an uncomfortable smile, and he only looked back mysteriously. As Bennet started driving, Gabe looked at his neighbor and said in French, "You know, there is something I have been meaning to ask you. What is your name?"

"Renee," the Haitian answered.

"Oh, that's what Claire said. Why haven't you ever told me?"

"When I was found by the Company, my father had just died. I could not speak because of my grief. They assumed I was mute, and I played their game. The first words I spoke in over a decade, I spoke to Claire a few years ago. I am still . . . getting back into the habit."

"Ohhh. Uh, do you have a phone number? Address? Email address? Some way of . . . contacting . . . you?" But Renee crossed his arms and didn't respond. Gabe did a blow-out sigh, he was so frustrated.

"Um, by the way, Gabe," Noah said, "I want to let you know that your father is doing much better. He's not crying anymore. He's talking. He's playing piano. I think the depression part is passing. However, he is getting rather paranoid. He told me the other day that he was apprehended by a member of a cult. He's worried about people, even children, getting trapped there, but he hasn't given me much evidence or information about what it is. Gabe, are you listening? Oh, can you understand me?" He looked in the rearview mirror. "Do you need to translate?"

"I hear you, spy," Gabe answered. "You forget, my college major was foreign languages."

"Well, I thought you were relying on your ability to breeze through it."

"For some of it, yes, but that doesn't mean I didn't learn anything!"

This time, Noah did a blow-out sigh. He couldn't understand Gabe's attitude.

When they got to the dormitory, Bennet and Gabe went up to the desk. "He needs to sign in. It's . . . kinda an emergency," Noah said to the Desk Assistant.

"We're here to stop a killer," Gabe said.

Noah slapped him. "You don't have to be so blunt."

"It's OK, Claire said you were coming," the Desk Assistant answered. "Just sign right here, please." Then she announced on the PA system, "Ladies, there will be a man on the third floor. Man on the third floor."

"You remember where it is?" Noah asked.

"I think so," Gabe said.

"Well then, good luck." Noah patted his arm reassuringly.

"Same to you," Gabe said flatly.

He climbed up the stairs and knocked on the door. It slowly opened, and the skinny girl cautiously peered out. "Hi, Gretchen," Gabe said with a wave.

"Huh? Oh yeah, Gabe! You're Claire's friend, right?"

"_Oui."_

"OK, come in." She opened the door just a crack, just enough for Gabe to squeeze through, then she locked it right behind him. She giggled uncomfortably and sat on her bed. "Well, have a seat. What are you doing here?"

"Claire . . . sent me."

"What for?"

"To . . . . protect you, of course. She said someone invisible was attacking you, and she wanted me to stay with you so that I can see when she comes."

"Oh, that's right! You saw her at the open house! Is that like . . . what you can do?"

"It's part of it."

"Um, if you don't mind me asking, Claire told me you were autistic."

"She's right. I am."

"Wow. What a bum deal is that!"

"It's not a bum deal! I mean, not everything about it is great, but it's given me a lot of good gifts. I can do well in school without really trying. I just inhale books and remember everything. And I have an incredible imagination. And it's connected me with some great people."

"Well, you know, back home I got a neighbor with an autistic son. He doesn't talk, and every time I see him, he's screaming and kicking. There's gotta be a nightmare going on in his head."

"You'd be surprised. There may be just some stimuli rubbing him the wrong way. He may be happier than you think. But then again, it is hard to tell."

Gretchen didn't ask him any questions after that. It got very quiet. Gabe couldn't stand it after a while. "Do you have a . . . TV or a radio or anything?"

"Can't take the silence, huh? Me neither." Gretchen got up and went to her computer.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm booking a flight back home."

"You're running away?" Gabe stammered awhile as he searched for the right words, and he finally said, "But I'm here to protect you! That's the whole reason I came!"

"But you can't stay here!" Gretchen said. "This isn't a co-ed dorm. Besides, didn't Claire say you go to Harvard? I'll bet they'll miss you down there."

"What would Claire think?"

"Look, Becky's coming after me! I can't just sit around here and wait for her to kill me! If you had a homicidal maniac after you, you'd understand."

"Been there, done that," Gabe said under his breath.

"What?!"

"Nothing."

He tried to say a few other things to convince her, but nothing was taking. So, he dropped it. This wasn't his concern anyway. Then Claire came back with the Haitian, and she and Gretchen got into an argument. Then Gretchen left. Claire asked Renee to stay with her until she was on her flight, and he left. "Um, I need to get a drink of water," Gabe said hastily. "Excuse me."

But just at that moment, there was a knock on the door. Claire dried her eyes and looked up. "Can I help you?"

"Possibly. Hopefully."

Gabe knew that voice and looked at the door anxiously. "Sam!"

The man saw him and smiled. "Gabriel! What a surprise. Nice to see you in the flesh."

"You know him?" Claire asked.

"What are you doing on this side?" Gabe asked.

He looked at Claire. "I apologize for this awkward introduction and my more awkward agenda. I'm here looking for my niece Rebecca, Becky?"

"And why would I know where you niece is?" Claire asked.

"Because she told me who you are, Claire. Just a little bit. I know you're special like her, like me, like young Gabriel here. I bet your asking yourself right about now, 'Who is this guy? What can he possibly know about me?'"

"Yeah, something like that." She turned to Gabe and whispered, "So, who is this guy? What can he possibly know about me?"

Gabe answered softly, "He owns a carnival where all the participants have superbilities."

"You've been there?"

"I've had a couple of dreams. It's kinda cool. I can't really answer the other question now."

"I also know it's very hard to trust anyone in this world being . . . one of us," Sam added.

"Then why should I trust you?"

"You shouldn't."

"He's right about that," Gabe whispered. "He–"

"Not until you hear me out." He came closer. "If you have a moment to listen, I might have some answers for you."

"Yeah, I got a minute."

Gabe just sat and silently listened as Sam explained what happened to Becky. The story about how Bennet murdered her father just enforced the new opinion he had of him. He didn't really have anything to add. Then when Sam said, "It's a whole lot easier for someone like you to understand you," Gabe nodded and said, "That's true. If only it were that easy."

Sam looked at him "It might be easier than you think, Gabriel."

Gabe scoffed. "What would you know about it? The people you got me to meet. You may be superable, but you're still NT. You know nothing."

He sighed. "You're right. I don't." He turned again to Claire. "Which is why I came to you and not your father. We all know what he would do in this situation."

Just then, the door opened, and the spy was there pointing a gun at Sam's head. "No, tell me, what would Bennet do?"

Sam then figured out that Claire was stalling until Bennet arrived, and she sorta confirmed it. The spy said he found Becky and discovered that she was unstable. Sam nodded. "Rebecca's a very disturbed girl, but in all fairness you had a hand in that, a responsibility."

Bennet lowered the gun. "Alright, let's talk responsibility." He tossed something to Sam from his pocket. "What do you know about this?"

"What is it?" Claire asked. Gabe looked in Sam's hand and saw a compass that looked just like the one Tracy had.

"Every time I see that compass, it comes with a dead body. First was Danko's."

"Agent Danko killed my brother," Sam said. "He started all this."

"Danko the Nazi?" Gabe said to himself. "He was the hybrid? Well, I guess I could understand that." He only half-listened to the conversation after that. He thought, "If people who have that compass get killed, I hope Mademoiselle Strauss is alright. Wait, the compass . . . Tracy . . . Jeremy . . . oppressors . . . the magic words. The magic words!" He suddenly turned to Claire and said, "Claire, where can I find Becky? Where does she live? What classes does she attend?"

Claire shook her head. "I don't know. I've only seen her at the sorority house."

"Do you know, Sam?"

Sam laughed. "Well, it's a bit tricky. She doesn't really attend college here, you see."

"I have to find her." He looked at Claire and put his hands on her shoulders. "I know exactly what to say to stop all this. It'll bring your friend back."

"If that's the case, Gabriel, you won't find her. Odds are better that she'll find you."

* * *

Bennet wanted to take Sam away to get the answers he wanted. They went to the parking garage where the spy cuffed Sam. "You should be careful of how you treat us in front of your daughter," Sam said. "After all, she's like me."

Bennet took the compass out of Sam's pocket. "You should be careful of what you say to my daughter."

"Don't blame your father!" Sam said louder to Claire. "He really doesn't understand us!"

That's when Gabe saw Becky running across the parking lot. "Becky!" he called. She pushed Claire aside. He tried to stand in front of her, but he only got shoved too. He hit the pavement hard, but he got up and ran in between the spy and Becky as she was taking Sam out of the car. He pointed his finger at her and yelled, "BECKY, YOU HAVE BEEN OPPRESSED!" Everyone stared at Gabe as the word "oppressed" echoed over and over again in the parking garage.

Becky materialized and smirked. "Tell me something I don't know."

"OK, so not all of the oppressed are not aware that they are," Gabe said sheepishly. "Alright, how about this: You can be liberated. Free. So-so you don't have to hide or, uh, run around with your carnival. All you have to do is get out of their grasp."

"What do you think I'm trying to do, what I've been doing for years?"

"Becky, that's not what you've been doing. You've been plotting revenge. Are you sure that's what you want?" He turned back to Bennet. "Take out this oppressor, and fifty will spring up in his place. Is that what you want? Vengeance is only a temporary solution. Don't you really want change that last? Look, what happened to your father was a tragedy. What happened to your uncle's brother is a tragedy. Why won't you find a way to ensure that such tragedies don't happen to you or your children or your children's children ever again?"

"Easier said than done."

"Actually, I'm starting a group, a self-advocacy group, of those with superbilities. It's all about joining together, doing whatever we can to stop the oppression and hopefully, eventually find acceptance for us. I would love for you to join."

She looked behind her. "What is he talking about, Uncle Samuel?"

"I don't know," he said, "but I like it."

"You don't know?" Gabe asked. "Why haven't you told her about your group?"

"My group? The carnival?"

"No, the–"

Just then, Gabe felt a terrible sting on the back of his neck. He fell down to his knees and blacked out.

* * *

When he came to, he found himself in the back seat of a moving vehicle. Gabe sat up and looked at the rearview mirror. "What's going on?"

"I tasered you," he said regretfully. "I didn't want to do it, but you were kinda in the way."

"So you–?"

"No, Claire convinced me to let them go. So . . . you see me as an oppressor."

There was no denying it now. _"Oui."_

"Tell me, Gabe, how do you define an oppressor?"

"Well, you know, basically someone who restricts another's rights, sometimes even to the point of death, and sees such a person as inferior, not recognizing his humanity, his rights as a human being."

"Alright, I grant you the first part. I sometimes see fit to restrict your rights, but I only do so to protect you. But I don't see you as inferior! Good grief, in some instances you might be superior. And I see you as a human being! I certainly see Claire as a human being."

"But you do see something . . . else."

"I just see you as . . . different. Gabe, people are afraid of what they do not understand."

"Why?"

Bennet shook his head. "Do you think I 'oppress' your father?"

"Perhaps."

"You told me the other day that you were leaving him in good hands."

"But do you listen to him? You told me this morning that you feared he was getting paranoid, crazy. You know, not everything we see happens in our heads. Why don't you take him seriously?"

"Because it doesn't make sense!"

"Because you won't give him a chance to tell you!"

"Alright, I'll give him a chance."

There was a moment of silence, and then Gabe thought of something. "Why did you want me to come down to Georgia the other day?"

"I told you! I wanted Jeremy in your group."

"But why? You know what I think? I think you wanted me to fail! I think you wanted me to tell him that he was special and he should be OK the way he is, and then he starts killing people, and you say, 'Ha ha, I told you so. You have another Sylar on your hands.'"

"That's not true."

"I don't believe it."

"Look if this was a few years ago, that might have been true, but those days are over. I'm learning from my mistakes, Gabriel. I just want you to learn from yours before you make them."

They said nothing more that whole trip. Gabe didn't even say "Goodbye" when Bennet pulled him up to the lab. The car sped off rather quickly. He went straight to the lab where everyone was working on a project.

"So, how'd it go?" Astrid said.

"Don't ask," Gabe answered.

"That's what you said last time, Gabe. You know, he's not FBI," Agent Dunham said.

"Let's just get to work."

But then there was a knock on the door. Olivia went up, opened the door a crack and said, "I'm sorry sir, this area is classified."

"I understand, miss. I'm here to see Gabriel Bonhomme for a minute."

Gabe knew that voice and approached the door. "Sam?"

The man looked through the crack and smiled. In the next moment, they were taking a walk around the school corridors. "I just have a few questions to ask you. First, I wanna say thank you for what you told Becky tonight. She told me that she felt encouraged and empowered in a way she hadn't before."

"_Merci_," Gabe nodded.

"But again, I don't quite understand, why didn't you tell me about this group?"

"Because you're in a group of your own! The S.S.A.G., remember? I first ran into you at a rally. You gave me this." He pulled out of his pocket a plastic button and handed it to Sam, who inspected it closely. "And you were wearing that same leather jacket, a camouflage hat, and a shirt that read, 'Rock and Roll.'"

Sam laughed. "I've always wanted to find a shirt that said, 'Rock and Roll' that didn't have anything to do with music. But I don't have any idea of what you're talking about." He handed the button back to Gabe.

"You know, in the parallel universe! I keep wondering how you keep coming to this side."

"You can go to a parallel universe?"

"You don't know about it? Oh, wait, it's not you! You must be the double! Good grief, I feel stupid!"

Sam laughed again. "I'm sure it's easy to do. That's why they're called doubles, right?" Then he looked straight at Gabe. "So, what is your group going to be about? What are you going to do?"

"Oh you know, lead protests, sign petitions, do everything we can to get the proper rights and to be recognized, like any civil rights group has done."

Sam smiled at that. "Well, that sounds wonderful! I am excited. It's so full of possibilities. This is so intriguing and inviting. If only my brother knew about this. It was always his dream that we would be free forever and be able to stay in a home without fear. We managed that in the carnival, but how wonderful it would be if it was for everyone like us all around the world."

"Exactly."

"I'll be in touch, and you have my word, I'll get everyone in my family involved. I just have to think about it for a few days and decide what's the best way to do it. Thank you." He shook Gabe's hand vigorously and started to walk away, but then turned back. "Oh. One other thing. What's a NT?"

"It's short for Neurotypical. It basically means non-autistic. There's some things you don't understand very much about me. You said it's better to talk to someone who's like you, that they understand you. When you took away Hanami, you took away one of the few people who's like me that I knew."

"I see. But there are others."

"Of course, but they're rare. They're not supposed to be rare. Everybody says the prevalence is high, but I've yet to meet very many."

"There are others," Sam said darkly. "And they may be closer than you think." He lifted his eyebrow, turned on his heel, and left.

* * *

Noah wrote on the article about the sinkhole the word "Samuel." Then he went into the other room where he saw Michael playing on the piano. "Alright, Bonhomme. Tell me everything you know about this cult."

To be continued . . .


	9. New World

Chapter 9: New World

It was quiet for a few days. Gabe didn't hear anything from Sam or the spy, so again he immersed himself in his work with Dr. Bishop. Again, he wanted to forget everything about this other world. And again, he was successful, until something came out of the blue. This time, though, it came from within.

"So, have you thought about what you're gonna do for Thanksgiving?" Astrid asked.

"Thanksgiving?" Gabe said.

"Yeah, it's coming up in a few days."

"What's that, some sort of American thing?"

Astrid shook her head and laughed. "Oh, right! I keep forgetting you're French. Yeah, it's a holiday celebrating when the Pilgrims, some of the first settlers in Americans, were saved by the Indi–I mean, Native Americans. I mean, the story's kinda flawed, but it's still a nice holiday."

"How do you celebrate?"

"Well, there's a huge parade in New York City."

"And a lot of great football games," Peter added.

"I thought soccer wasn't popular in America," Gabe said.

"It's _American _football."

"Oh."

"But the best part is the FEAST!" Dr. Bishop said. "Turkey, stuffing, sweet potatoes, green beans, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie. Oh, the mere thought fires up my salivary glands."

"Yech, cranberries. I think I'll pass, just keep working in here."

"Well, Thanksgiving is a Federal holiday," Agent Dunham said. "That means government departments shut down. Technically, we'll be closed."

"But fringe science doesn't take a holiday, does it?"

"There might be an emergency, but we all need some time off, too."

"This could be just what you need, Gabe," Peter said. "Instead of focusing on what you have not, you can practice being thankful for what you have. That's what helped me when I felt down when Dad was gone."

"I suppose you're right," Gabe answered.

"So, what are you gonna do?" Astrid asked again.

"I don't know. I guess Papa's still with the spy. I'll probably spend time with him."

"Well, if that doesn't work out, we'll invite you."

"Yes, you must try my turkey," Dr. Bishop said. "I know the scientifically proven secret to keeping it moist and flavorful."

"Sounds nice," Gabe said, even though he didn't care much for turkey.

With this new development in mind, Gabe called a couple of numbers. First, he dialed Peter's number. He heard a few rings, and then it picked up. "Hello?"

"_Allo, _Peter?"

"Gabe! What's up?"

"Um, I was just told about some America that's coming up, Thanksgiving, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, my employers said they're going to be closed. I wondered, since you're family, if maybe I could spend some of it with you."

"Uh, I don't think that's a good idea."

"I mean, I was just thinking, not just time to catch up with you, but if Nathan's going to be there, maybe I'll finally get a chance to talk to him."

"Well, you see the deal is we have some hard questions to ask Mom. It's going to be kinda personal, and it's probably best that you don't get involved."

"Oh. Alright. I just thought I'd ask."

"Hey, I'll talk to Nathan. I'm going to make sure that he'll give you the time of day, soon."

"_Merci._ I appreciate that, Peter."

"You're welcome."

"Well, happy Thanksgiving."

"I hope it is going to be happy," Peter mumbled.

"What?"

"I mean, same to you."

Gabe hung up and dialed the spy. "Hello?"

"Spy!"

"Oh, Gabe, didn't expect to hear from you." When Gabe went on to ask what he was doing for Thanksgiving, he snidely asked, "You feel alright spending Thanksgiving with an oppressor?"

"I want to spend it with my Papa!"

"It's OK," the spy answered. "I'm just messing with you. Actually, I was just talking to your father about it the morning. I asked him if he could make a dish."

"Papa's well enough to cook?"

"Yeah, he's doing great. He's lucid and chipper."

"Still paranoid?"

"I'll talk to you about that later. Anyway, I first asked him if he could make some French dish, thinking it'd be cool to have something a little exotic for our American holiday. But then I remembered something from a few years back. After Kaito Nakamura's wife passed away, he had good things to say about some Hungarian dinner roles that were given to him. Kaito wasn't one to give out praise, so I knew they had to be good."

"My mother made them."

"That's right! So I asked your father if he knew the recipe well enough to cook it for Thanksgiving dinner, and he said he would. And he also thought it would be a good time to pass it on to you."

"I thought he already did. At least, I made them a couple of times. But then again, I'm getting a little rusty on the recipe."

"He could probably use your help anyway. Just to let you know, though, it's going to be a full house. I'm inviting Claire and Sandra, and . . . she's bringing a guest."

"Is Claire bringing a guest?"

"Well, if you came, you can be Claire's guest."

"So I guess her roommate hasn't come back."

"No, she hasn't."

"I'll . . . be happy to come."

"Alright, good. Um, it would be great if you can come down early to help your dad. I'm going to have to pick up some stuff at the supermarket. Maybe I could send you the directions, and one of the people who works with you can drop you off."

"I think that can be arranged. _Merci._ See you in a few days."

* * *

Hiro pounded on the Butterfly Man's door screaming, until he opened it. Then the Butterfly Man blathered on about how glad he felt to be alive and how he had just realized his true potential. Hiro didn't care. "Give me Charlie!" he demanded.

"Sorry, not yet," the wicked man answered.

Hiro grabbed his shoulder to show he meant business.

"Feeling brave, samurai warrior?" the Butterfly Man said in Japanese. Then he said in English, "There's a nice, sharp axe over there. Go on, freeze time, chop me into bits. No! That's right, you can't! 'Cause if you kill me, you'll never find Charlie!"

Then something occurred to Hiro that he hadn't thought about in many days. "Charlie's not the only butterfly you stepped on! You–!" But then, it slipped away. He tried so hard to get it back, "You . . . you . . . you . . . did something else. Something bad."

"Can't remember, can you? That's ok. As long as you can't remember, you can't really hold it against me, right?"

Hiro hated him so. He whispered in Japanese, "You are the devil."

But the Butterfly Man only replied, "I'm your savior, Hiro, you just don't know it yet. Now, go help set the table. And smile, it's Thanksgiving!"

* * *

Astrid dropped off Gabe in the morning. He helped his father get the ingredients together and stir up the dough. Michael wrote down every step. While they waited for the dough to rise, they watched the Macy's parade on TV. Then it was ready to knead.

"Now, you have to be careful," Michael said. "You don't want to over-knead it, but don't do too little either."

"I know, Papa," Gabe said. "I also know that no matter what I do, it'll still taste great."

"It's not the taste. It's the texture I'm worried about. We don't want it to be too tough."

"It'll be fine, Papa. The guests will love it."

"Alright, that's good. Now, we pinch off a little bit and make it into balls the size of our palms."

"Yes, I know." As they kept working, Gabe looked at him and asked, "So Papa, how are you feeling?"

"I'm doing . . . better."

"So, you're not mourning for Sylar anymore."

"Yes, I had an epiphany about him. I . . . don't know if I really describe it or explain it, at least, not right now. I'll tell you about it one day."

Gabe wasn't sure about how to respond to that. "OK. Now, the spy says he's worried that you've become paranoid. What's that about?"

"Actually, I've been talking to him about it. He says I'm helping him a lot."

"That's good. He's listening to you. I told him to."

Ten minutes after they put the rolls in the pan, Michael put them in the oven. Shortly after, someone came into the kitchen saying, "Mmm! Something smells good!" Gabe looked up and saw a woman with straight, blonde hair who he didn't recognize at all. She started getting down other food to cook, then she extended her hand. "Hi, my name's Lauren Gilmore. I used to work with Noah at Primatech."

"Ah another spy, _une femme fatale!"_

Lauren laughed. "Something like that."

"Pleased to meet you. My name's Gabe."

"Oh yes! Noah's told me a little bit about you. You're the polyglot from France, right?"

"Polyglot?"

"Yeah, you speak many languages."

"I know, but I wouldn't say it that way."

"Sorry. I like shorthand phrases like that." She looked at Michael. "And I know about you. You were the first escapee from Northpoint."

Michael cringed.

"Please don't mention that place. He still has bad memories," Gabe whispered.

"OK, OK, my bad," she whispered. "By the way, my condolences about Claude. He was an awesome guy. I still remember his accent. He had a nice smile, too."

"Well, that's news to me. He was so pessimistic, he rarely ever smiled."

"Yeah, well, you know I mean, when I saw him at all."

"It happened months ago. I'm kinda over it now."

"Yeah, me too. Of course, I thought he died years ago, and that was coupled with the thought that he was a traitor. My mourning period wasn't all that long. Well, anyway, if either of you need help in the kitchen, you got an extra pair of hands here."

"That's nice of you, Mademoiselle Gilmore. Oh, by the way, I have to ask, do you have superbilities?"

"Excuse me?"

"It's my understanding that's how they worked at Primatech. I think the motto was, 'One of us, one of them.' So, which one were you?"

Lauren gave a mysterious smile. "That's for me to know and you to find out. Now, let me get this can of green beans."

Gabe handed it to her, thinking, _"Une femme fatale _indeed."

Claire came first, and she right away told Noah that she had something to tell him. When she said that, Gabe started to regret coming. Lauren being there didn't because it became clear that Noah wanted her there for more reasons than just to cook. Then Madame Bennet came with another show dog breeder named Doug, and they brought their two dogs Mr. Muggles and Miss Lovegood. Gabe could start to feel the tension between Lauren and Sandra already. Michael was wary about something else. "What did she call that dog?" he whispered to Gabe.

"Mr. Muggles," he whispered back.

"That's what I thought."

* * *

Hiro had a talk with Lydia, and once she saw his true feelings, she asked for him to travel back to the night when Joseph was murdered. Even though he didn't want to, he traveled eight weeks into the past. "Oh no! You made us time travel! We must go back!"

"Shh!" she hissed. They spied a tall, balding man walking alone. "That's Joseph. He's not at the ticket booth, and I think I know why. Come on, let's follow him."

They followed a few paces behind, until he came to the fortune teller's tent. They heard loud sobs coming from inside. Hidden, Hiro and Lydia were only able to see the silhouettes through the curtains, and they heard the voices. "Sarah? Why are you crying again? Did someone upset you?" He was only answered by wails. "It was another bad dream, was it? Do you have the tears? Give me your tears." Hiro watched as the small figure sitting at the table put something into the taller figure's hand. He clenched it into a fist and held it to his heart. "Alright, thank you. Everything will be OK, now. I love you, Sarah." He walked out, and at the first opportunity he tossed what was in his hand into a fire.

"What did he just do?"

"He does that sometimes. When Sarah gets upset, he can take her feelings away so that she can do her readings with an unclouded mind. Like when she cries, he takes her used tissues, and when he holds them, he actually holds her sadness."

"But why was she sad?"

"Because she must have known that he was going to die that night."

Hiro came closer to the opening of the tent and saw the girl with dark hair and all the outlandish jewelry dusting off the table with not a tear on her face. "She looks so familiar, like someone I used to know," he thought aloud in Japanese.

"Come on, Hiro, let's go," Lydia said, and he followed her.

* * *

The disaster began just after Bennet made a toast. He thanked everyone for coming, especially Lauren for helping him cook. And then as an afterthought, he said, "Oh, and Michael and Gabe, of course, for the wonderful roles"

"Out of this world," Claire seconded.

"_Merci,_" Gabe whispered.

Then the family drama began as the issue of where the couples first met. Gabe just continued eating and wishing he wasn't there. Doug, however, had to make things worse without realizing it. "You know, in my family on Thanksgiving, we used to go around the table and everyone would say what they were thankful for." Everyone exchanged odd glances and kept silent. "OK, I'll go first. I am thankful for the two beautiful women in my life–Miss Lovegood and my beautiful Sandy." He kissed the latter.

"OK," Noah said. "I am thankful for Claire who decided to come for Thanksgiving. It would not be the same without her."

"I second that," Madame Bennet said.

"I'm thankful for canned yams," Lauren said with a laugh. Everyone tittered with her.

Michael cleared his throat. "I am thankful for grace and God's mercy, pulling me out of the darkness and turning my face toward the eternal light."

"That is beautiful!" Madame Bennet said.

"And you, Gabe?" Noah asked.

"Well, I wish I could say the same as you, Papa, with such conviction," Gabe said. "Part of me still is in the darkness, groping for light. I've been feeling deserted, lonely. But a friend of mine told me that I should take this time to remember what I have. So, I am thankful for my health, that I am here, alive. And I am thankful for Papa, that he's here, healthy, and alive. And I am thankful for this food that we have in such tremendous quantity." Everybody laughed at that, too. "I am thankful for all of my gifts, my strengths, my abilities" (he looked straight at Bennet when he said that). "I am thankful for my job, the things that I do, the people I work with, the money I get. I–"

"OK, that's probably enough Gabe, thank you," Doug said in a patronizing way. "How about you, Claire?"

"Um . . . I know that I should be thankful, but I'm just not feeling it right now," she said thoughtfully.

Gabe beat the table. "Good answer. That's what I should've said."

And that's when the drama hit. Claire announced that she was considering dropping school. She and Noah both argued across the table, while everyone else felt helplessly lost with the details. Gabe knew some of them, but he couldn't see why they would make her want to drop out. Why wouldn't she consider transferring at least? Then Claire shouted, "I can't lie anymore! I'm a freak, and people don't like freaks!"

"Claire–!" Gabe started, but she shot him a look that told him to keep his mouth shut.

"Can I just interject something here?" Doug asked.

"No!" everyone seemed to say at once.

"I think we should all just take a deep breath," Lauren said.

"All I was going to say is that what Claire's feeling is perfectly normal," Doug said.

Gabe immediately slammed his hands on the table. "DON'T SAY THAT! DON'T SAY THAT WORD!"

He looked at Gabe in shock for a moment, then he continued that it's typical to want to fit in but sometimes not being able to and it would all "blow over" soon. Claire responded by cutting through her arm, and as they watched it bleed and heal, she said, "How's this for normal?"

"AAARGH!" Gabe got up from the table and went to the other room. "If someone else says the n-word, I am going to lose it!"

"You know, when most people talk about the n-word, they're talking about something completely different," Lauren said from the doorway.

He looked at her as he pulled out his phone. "Yeah, I know. That's not a good one either. This one's just as bad as far as I'm concerned." He dialed and put the phone up to his ear. "_Allo, _Astrid? I'm ready to go."

* * *

Doug had passed out from Claire's stunt, and Sandra watched as the two dogs licked his face. Then Michael came up to her and said nervously, "Madame, might I have a word with you?"

"Sure," she said. She stood up from Doug's side and smiled. "What's up?"

"Madame, please consider this as constructive criticism. And it may not be appropriate timing because of the holiday and . . . what just happened to your friend, but there may not be another time."

"No, that's fine. What is it?"

"I think you should seriously consider changing your dog's name."

She looked shocked and offended. "What? Mr. Muggles? How could you have a problem with that name?"

"Don't you know what it means?"

"It means nothing! It's a completely fabricated word that I gave him because it sounds cute. Well, every show I go to, I'm asked by some ignorant bystander that I got it from Harry Potter, but–"

"I heard that word not too long ago used to be offensive, vulgar, to cause pain and hardship, to be cruel. You see, the day is not far off where that word is going to be used as a slur."

"A slur? Well, that's ridiculous! What for? Even if there was a Harry Potter connection, there aren't real wizards."

"It's for people like you and your friend and . . . your husband. People with no . . . incredible talents. I am worried that if you continue with this name at your shows, people are going to assume that you are intolerant toward your own, for lack of a better word, kind."

"Look, I can't just change it. He's officially registered under that name, just like Dame Penelope . . . whatever Lovegood. Besides, he's learned to come when called. I can't just rewire his brain to respond to a new name. But thanks for the suggestion." She walked away to signal that the conversation was over.

"And what if it happens?"

She turns back. "Well, I'll . . . I'll cross that bridge when I come to it!"

* * *

Gabe was standing at the window waiting for Astrid in the other room. Then he saw Claire's reflection in the window. "Gabe, if you don't mind me asking, why do hate that word so much?"

He didn't turn around and spoke to her reflection. "Go to the library and read anything by Lennard J. Davis, especially _Enforcing Normalcy_. Look up eugenics on Wikipedia. E-U-G-E-N-I-C-S. That'll tell you." She didn't move, so he turned to show her his profile. "Oh, you want the short answer. You don't want to learn anymore. That's why you're dropping out of college."

"That's not true!"

"Then why don't you transfer to another school?"

"Because it's just going to be the same story over there. I don't know, maybe I will when this is all over. It's not like it's any of your business."

"If it's not my business, why did you argue about it right in front of me?"

Claire sighed. "You're right. I shouldn't have done that. It was rude. So, what is the short answer?"

Gabe finally turned to her. "I just don't think it's fair to put anyone into such a narrow, vague category and ostracize them when they don't fit. And you were right earlier, sorta. It's because I'm not normal. I never was, and I never will be, no matter how much I try. I suppose you wouldn't understand. You used to be a cheerleader, one of the popular girls. You put us in those categories."

"Actually, I was kinda an outsider from the start. My best friend for a long time . . . didn't try to be normal. He told me once that he learned to embrace his inner freak. He actually arranged for all the unpopular people to vote for me as Homecoming Queen."

"And did you win?"

"Yeah, I won. You know, Gabe, maybe you're right. Maybe there is no such thing as normal, but after spending the last few months running for my life because of some weird thing I can do, I just don't want to hear it."

"Hey, you don't have to tell me about that. I went through it too, remember? That's the reason I'm trying to start this group, because I don't want it to ever happen again."

"I guess . . . I just don't want to fit in a category. I just want to be me."

"Exactly! Now you're getting it." Gabe looked out the window. "Oh, there's Astrid. That was quick. I gotta go."

"You're leaving already? You're not going to stay for pumpkin pie?"

"Astrid told me that they saved a piece for me and that Peter Bishop made it 'crazy delicious.' She also said that Dr. Bishop made the whipped cream out of Gene's milk, which I doubt is pasteurized. It sounds interesting, anyway."

He started heading to the door. Bennet caught up with him and shook his hand. "Well, Gabe, thanks for coming. Sorry we aired the Bennet dirty laundry right in front of you."

Gabe sighed, knowing that he couldn't say what he wanted to say, that he shouldn't have come. "Well, the food was good, and I'm glad you're taking good care of Papa."

"Thanks for the roles," Lauren said as she shook his hand. "They were so good! I gotta get the recipe."

"Sorry, _femme fatale_, family secret."

"Well, I guess I'm just gonna have to steal it from you." Gabe eyes bugged out, and Lauren laughed and patted his hand. "I'm just kidding."

He shook hands with Madame Bennet. "It's nice to see you again."

"You to," she nodded. "Happy Thanksgiving."

"Yes, thank you." He hugged his father goodbye, then he walked down the stairs to the parking lot to the woman waiting outside, but then he stopped short. "You're not Astrid."

"Nope." It was Becky. "Uncle Samuel sent me. He has something special he wants to show you."

"Did he find Hanami?" Gabe asked anxiously.

Becky shrugged and mumbled, "I don't know. I'm just telling you what he said."

"Where is he?"

"Come on." She took his arm. "Now, he said I need to be careful about this." She pulled out a compass and held it away from her.

"What are you doing?"

"In the family, we have a way of getting around." Shortly after she said that, they both vanished.

* * *

Just after Gabe left, Claire went into her father's office and saw clippings of Samuel's activity. "I thought you gave up all this," she said.

"Yeah, so did I," he answered. He opened a drawer and pulled out a familiar item. "And then I come across this compass which almost gets me killed. It turns out it belongs to this strange man who appears in my daughter's bedroom threatening the normal life she so desperately wants." He raised his eyebrow. "Gabe's not here anymore. That word's not forbidden."

"Well, maybe Gabe is right. Maybe it's impossible. Maybe I'm not supposed to have a normal life."

"It sounds like you're giving up."

"Did Gabe give up?"

"Gabe is completely different. He's autistic; you're not!"

"Well, we're alike in other ways."

"Is that why you cut yourself?"

"I don't know. Maybe it's because you all think you know what it's like to be me, but you don't! How could you possibly? I have to lie to everyone, otherwise they faint! And I can't imagine how bad it is for Gabe or for Mr. Bonhomme. They have so much else to deal with to pass for normal. That's like me to the nth degree!"

"I know that it has been hard, and I know that I have caused you pain, but I'm concerned about you Claire! These are not good people! They're dangerous! Mr. Bonhomme was there, and he believes it's a cult!"

"Look, I'm not Mr. Bonhomme's daughter!"

"You're right. You're mine, and I'm saying–"

"Will you stop treating me like a child?"

"Then stop acting like one!"

There was a knock on the door. Noah went to answer it. A concerned young lady stood in the doorway. "Hi. Is Gabriel Bonhomme here?"

"Are you Astrid?"

"Yes, I was supposed to pick him up."

"He left about twenty minutes ago. I thought he left with you."

"No, I haven't seen him."

Claire took a good look at her. "She does look a lot like Becky." Her eyebrows raised. "Becky?"

* * *

Becky and Gabe appeared outside. They weren't in the carnival because it was so dark. "Where are we?" Gabe asked Becky.

"Ah, Gabriel!" That was unmistakably Sam's voice. He came from a multi-columned booth or shrine or something. He walked out with a huge smile on his face. "Do you know where you are?"

"If I did, I wouldn't have just said, 'Where are we?' would I?"

Sam chuckled. "Touche, my friend. Come, take a closer look." He gestured Gabe to come closer, took him inside the shrine, and motioned to . . . a small boulder.

"Why would America build a huge thing to honor a rock?"

"It's not just any old rock, Gabriel. This is Plymouth Rock. Ever heard of it?"

"Maybe."

"This is the cradle of America. Let me tell you what happened here. It would be very educational for you. On second thought, why don't I tell everyone?"

"Everyone?"

Sam led him out of the shrine again, and it was surrounded by people holding candles. Gabe looked at their faces in flickering candlelight. He didn't recognize most of them, and he wasn't sure what kind of people they were.

Sam raised his hands and said loudly, "Over three hundred years ago, some of the first American settlers landed here at this very spot. Much like us, they were fleeing oppression and persecution, though in their case they were running because of how they believed and how they worshiped. Yet it seemed as though they came here to die, for after they arrived many of them passed away from disease and hunger. But then the natives, even more oppressed than they were, called savages because of their culture, their skin color, and their talent, they came to these people and saved their lives. Squanto, Massasoit, names of legend, they taught these European settlers to harvest corn and to catch eel. These gracious people preserved many of our ancestors. To show their gratitude, both of these peoples sat side by side at the same table and held a three-day feast to celebrate the harvest and to give thanks to their God they were alive. Truly, this was the beginning of a new world.

"And now, we are the savages. We are feared because of our talents. We have been running, hiding in plain sight for as long as I can remember. Though together, we feel so alone. But things will soon change. This is the future I promised. We will stand together and fight for our rights to be recognized as people. We will teach the others not to fear us." Then, he put his arm around Gabe's shoulders. "This young man will show us how. He has told me that he is looking for freedom, for change that lasts. And I truly believe that together we can find it. Our family will grow so much that the carnival cannot begin to contain it! Yet we shall all sit at the same table, side by side. Brothers, sisters, children, once more today a new world has begun."

The crowd around them applauded. Gabe just looked at Sam, wondering what he wanted him to do. "Well, don't you want to go meet them?" Sam asked.

"Is Hanami among them?"

"No, but–"

"Then, I need to go. I'm expected somewhere else, and they're probably worried about me." He pulled out his phone. "_Oui_, look at all these text messages. They want to know where I am."

"You don't have to go back to them. Now that you're here, in the flesh, you can meet some of these people face to face, and I could give you a proper tour of the carnival."

"Perhaps another time. Cambridge isn't far from here, is it?"

"Don't worry about that. I will see to it you will get to your destination. And . . . I will be in touch."

"Thank you for your support, Sam."

"No problem. Come on."

He walked Gabe through the crowd. On the way, Gabe brushed past a girl. He recognized her as Sarah from his dream, but Sam pushed him through before Gabe could say hi. He watched as her eyes pierced into him.

* * *

After everyone left, Noah saw Michael standing at the window. "Good dinner tonight, huh? And I grateful for your contribution. Those roles were a hit. I can see why Kaito raved about them. And like I told your son, I'm very sorry about what happened, especially if it upset you." Michael didn't move and didn't respond. Noah went closer to him. "Are you alright? Are you worried about your son? Don't, he just texted me. He got to Cambridge fine, and now he's eating pumpkin pie with FBI agents and a man who's clinically insane. Same ole same ole, I guess. So why don't you play a little on the piano? Will that help you feel better? I was hoping you would–"

"He's awake," Michael whispered. "I can feel him."

"Who?" Noah asked. It couldn't be who he thought.

"He's awake. He's alive."

To be continued . . .


	10. Silent Gypsy Princess

Chapter 10: Silent Gypsy Princess

The sun seemed to come too early. Lydia didn't want to get up right away because she didn't want to face Samuel, but she thought about what Joseph would say. She had to get up and do her chores. So she lazily pushed herself off the pillow and opened her eyes. She blinked a few times because someone was staring her right in the face.

"Sarah? What are you doing here?"

She focused more on the child's face. She was breathing hard. The poor thing was terrified.

"What's wrong? Did you have a bad dream? But you kept it to yourself this time. That's good. It shows you're maturing."

Sarah started moaning, and she reached up and touched Lydia's face. Lydia took it away. "Sweetheart, Joseph's not here anymore. He's dead. You know that. Do you want to see Uncle Samuel?"

Sarah wailed and shook her head.

"Honey, I can't do anything. I can't help you make these feelings go away."

Sarah then put both of her hands on Lydia's cheeks, and the tattoo lady understood. "Gabriel. You want to see Gabriel." The girl nodded. "Alright. Come with me. We'll make sure you see him."

Lydia got up right away. She didn't even bother to change or put on shoes. She offered her hand to the girl, and Sarah took it hesitantly. She walked behind Lydia as though she was hiding. They found Samuel at his trailer reading the paper. "I know the truth, Samuel," Lydia said boldly, "but I have a daughter to look after. So, your secret is safe with me."

He gave a small smile and nodded.

"Oh, one other thing." She tugged her arm so that she revealed the girl, still hugging Lydia's skirt. "Sarah wants to see Gabriel."

"Does she now?" Samuel said, intrigued. He put down his paper and came closer to her. "It's not often you request for human interaction. You must really like him." He reached down to stroke her hair.

But then, Sarah let out a loud scream. She fell down on the ground and started kicking and wailing. She hid her face from Samuel.

"Sarah! SARAH! PLEASE, IT'S JUST ME, SARAH! IT'S JUST ME! It's just me!" He fell down on his knees and started singing through his tears, "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You–" But she wasn't responding. He couldn't do it gently enough and still be heard. So he buried his head in his hands and screamed, "JOSEPH! JOSEPH! WHERE ARE YOU WHEN WE NEED YOU?!" as he wept.

Eventually, Sarah calmed down from her fit, but she was still crying into Lydia's skirt. Samuel finally looked up at Lydia. "What's going on? Do you know?"

"She had a bad dream," Lydia said.

He stood up and looked at Lydia with concern. "Did you dream it, too? Is that how you know?"

"No. No, I barely remember what I dreamed."

Samuel turned around just as the man he requested came. "Eli, how did you sleep last night?"

"Like a rock," Eli said. "You?"

Samuel smiled. "I had very pleasant dreams." Then he turned back to Lydia. "You might want to check around and ask everyone if they had bad dreams."

"I really think this time, she tried to keep it to herself. I mean, that's great, isn't it?"

"Actually, I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. It could mean we're losing her. I've always been afraid of that. But she's right. She probably knows that with Joseph gone, Gabriel's her next best bet. It's high time they meet. So, I'll go get him."

"And what do you need me to do?" Eli asked.

"Oh, yes, Eli, I have a special job for you. I'll tell you about that first. Lydia, thank you." He tried to talk to Eli, but he watched with sadness as Lydia and Sarah walked away, because Sarah was still crying and staring at him in fear.

* * *

After pumpkin pie the night before, Astrid told Gabe about another American tradition called Black Friday. As he heard about it, he wasn't sure he liked it. The commotion in all the stores could make him feel claustrophobic. Still, he knew that shopping was a way that many NTs, particularly girls, liked to socialize, and he thought it would be nice to get to know his employers as friends. Besides, he remembered how he loved to see the Christmas decorations on Champs Elycee, and he heard American decorations were also very pretty. So at the time he agreed to meet the others, Gabe put on his hoodie and put his wallet in his pocket. There was a knock on the door. "Just a minute, Peter!" he called. He had misplaced his keys. Frantically, Gabe checked around the places where he usually put them until he found them and shoved them into his pocket. Then he opened the door, but Peter wasn't there.

"Going somewhere?" Sam asked.

"Uh, _oui. _I was going Christmas shopping with my friends."

Sam laughed. "Today? It's madness in the stores."

"I know, but they want to go, and I want to get to know them better."

"Listen, I'm sorry to interrupt your plans, but I really need you to come back to the carnival with me. It's somewhat of an emergency."

"Hey Gabe!" Peter Bishop was coming down the hall. "Ready to–oh, hey, what's up? Who's this?"

Sam extended his hand. "Samuel Sullivan. Pleased to meet you."

"Sullivan? As in the Sullivan Brothers Carnival posters I've been seeing?"

"Actually, yes. I'm the owner. Now, if you don't mind, I need to steal your friend for a bit. We need his help, and I'm afraid it can't wait."

Peter looked at Gabe. "Do you want to go with him?"

"Well, if he says he needs my help, and he says he's going to help me."

"I'll bring him back in one piece, I promise," Sam said.

"Well, alright. Gabe," Peter beckoned with his fingers. Gabe came closer, and he said quietly, "Carnies . . . are my kind of people. So, just be careful. He might be stringing you along."

"I know how shady they are," Gabe answered. "I'll be careful."

"Well, it's going to be harder for you because you can't read people as well. Take everything you hear, and see, with a grain of salt, alright? We'll see you later."

"Have fun."

"Yeah, you too."

* * *

"Evening, Mr. Bennet," Lauren greeted as he opened his door.

"Hello, Miss Gilmore," he replied. "Come on in."

As she went into the living room, she spotted Michael standing at the window. "He's still here?"

"Oh, that's right, I haven't really told you about him," Noah said. "I've kinda taken him in."

"What, you adopted him? This isn't _The Blind Side_! What does his son think?"

"I didn't adopt him! I'm just watching him for the time being. See, when I found him, he was very depressed. He wouldn't talk, and he wouldn't stop crying. He's kinda gotten out of that, but I think now he's going into another weird phase. He's been standing at that window all night, muttering in French. His autism might be interfering. All he'll tell me is that someone is awake now, but he won't say who."

"Do you think he's looking for him?"

"Maybe. I don't know."

Then she spotted the news clippings about Samuel and Noah's notes about the compass. He explained to her what he knew. Then he searched in the drawer to show her his confiscated compass, but it was gone. "It was right here!" he said in frustration.

"Well, maybe you put it someplace else," Lauren offered.

"No," he said. He looked toward Michael. "Bonhomme, have you seen a gold compass around here?"

Michael didn't turn around, but he slowly shook his head.

Noah turned to Lauren. "Claire!"

"She took it?" she asked.

"Well, she was here last night."

"What about that French boy? They were both in here."

"I doubt it. Gabe and Samuel are on a first-name basis."

"Well then maybe he has a compass of his own!"

Noah looked at her in amazement. "That's not bad thinking, Lauren. You could be right. Well, Plan A first." He dialed Claire's number.

* * *

Once at the carnival, Samuel led Gabe to the Hall of Mirrors. Gabe went to the middle and laughed at all the reflections around him. "I always loved this, reflecting the reflections to infinity. _C'est tres choette!_" (It's very cool.) He waved one hand and watched as millions of other hands waved back. He was thinking about other tricks, but Samuel came behind him along with a strange man in dreads and wearing a white robe.

"Sorry to spoil your fun, Gabriel," Sam said, "but I took you here to show you something important."

"What is it?"

He pointed to the man behind him. "Damien has the gift to reveal memories. I've asked him to show you my memories of a very special child. Now, some of them will be hard to watch. I think even I will not be able to endure them again, but you need to see them. You need to understand from the forefront what you are about to see."

Damien put his hands on Samuel's temples for a moment, then backed away. Suddenly, the mirrors around Gabe reflected a black-and-white scene of a cornfield. Samuel, who looked a little younger, was going through the field, plucking corn as he went and putting it in a sack. Suddenly, he heard a cry and stopped. "Hello?" He looked all around. "Is someone here?" He followed the sound of the crying until he came to a tree. There was a girl curled beneath the tree weeping. Sam knelt down to her. "Hello! My name's Samuel. What's your name?" The girl just continued sobbing. "Don't cry, sweetie, don't cry. It's OK. Do you have anywhere to go? Do you want to come with me?" He reached for her, but she cringed and cried louder. So Samuel sat down, looked at her, and sang "You are my Sunshine" a couple of times. Then, she stopped crying and stared at him. Then he smiled. "Come with me. I'll take you home." So she got up and followed him.

They walked up to the carnival entrance and met a tall man. "Who's that you got with you, Samuel?" he asked.

"She's in a bad way, Joseph. I found her alone out in the field crying. She won't tell me her name. In fact, she hasn't really talked. Do you think perhaps she could stay the night?"

"Well, we need to find out more about her. She could be lost. She could have run away. She could have been abandoned."

"But she found us on her own. It's not often that happens. It probably means she needs us."

"That's true." The tall man knelt down to her. "Hi, little one. Here, let me dry your tears." But when he reached to her face, she moaned and shook her head. "It's OK, it's OK, I won't hurt you." He took her hand, and she calmed down. Joseph wiped her tears with his thumb. "Is that better? OK." He stood up. "Let's take her to Lydia."

In the next moment, they were in Lydia's tent. There was another man in there with her. Gabe didn't recognize him; he was also tall and had a beard. "Lydia, we need you to find out whatever you can about this girl," Sam said. "She won't talk to us."

Lydia nodded, "Sure." She came down closer to the child, but again the girl moaned, shook her head, and backed away.

"It's alright," Joseph said gently to the girl. "Would you feel better if you touched her?"

"Will that still work?" Sam asked.

Lydia nodded. "Yeah, it should, but it will have to be on my skin. Here." She turned around and started taking off her shirt.

Gabe immediately shut his eyes and turned away with a grunt.

"No, it's OK!" present Sam answered. "You won't see anything, I promise." Gabe still didn't f eel comfortable, but he turned around.

The girl slowly put her hand on Lydia's back, and Lydia closed her eyes. "Her name is Sarah. She's a ward of the state."

"Wait! Wait, stop!" Gabe shouted. The image froze in the mirror, and Gabe turned to present Sam. "I don't know what that means."

Sam looked at him sadly and explaine, "It means, for all intensive purposes, she has no parents, no legal guardian, no family to speak of. The government took care of her, and that's in a rather loose sense."

"Why?"

"Keep watching. You'll see."

The image unfroze, and Lydia continued, "Her parents abandoned her when she was a little child. No, wait . . . they committed her."

"To a mental hospital?" the man with a beard asked.

"That's terrible!" Sam said. "They turned their back on her, and for what?"

"I think I see why she's so afraid," Lydia said. "They did awful things to her. I don't think she trusts us."

"But is she one of us? Does she have a gift?"

After a long pause, Lydia answered, "Yes. She's a dreamer."

"What does that mean?"

"No wait," the bearded man asked, "what's wrong with her? Why was she in an institution?"

Lydia shook her head. "I can't tell. She doesn't have the word for it."

"There's nothing wrong with her, Edgar!" Sam interjected. "She's afraid now, but as she comes to know us, she won't be afraid any longer. And it's alright if she doesn't talk. Damien doesn't talk much, but we still get along fine with him."

"I think Edgar has a point, Samuel," Joseph answered. "None of us are psychologists. If she has a viable mental illness, we're not equiped to take care of her specific needs. We'll have to send her back."

"We can't send her back! You just heard Lydia; they abused her there! And as far as needs are concerned, sure they'll see to her needs: food, clothing, shelter, whatever education they think she can handle, but they won't meet the greatest need of all--love."

"He's right," Lydia said. "I've seen a lot of movies about places like that: _Rain Man, Bill, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest._ She'll just be a number to them. They'll crush her spirit. Whatever problem she has, she'll just regress and get worse."

"She can stay the night," Joseph said, "but in the morning, I will see the nearest mental hospital myself. I still believe they will have better understanding about her condition." He looked at Sam and smiled. "Perhaps we can visit her, maybe even work it out so that she can come to the carnival on weekends, just to let her know that there are people who care about her."

"Do you think that would be enough?" Sam asked.

"Well, that might be all that we're allowed. So it will have to be enough." He put his hand on Sam's shoulder. "I'm glad you care about her so much, brother."

Suddenly, the whole mirror became dazzlingly white. Present Samuel hid face and said, "NO, I CAN'T! I CAN'T!"

"What is it?" Gabe asked.

Sam lifted his face. "Do you remember when I told you some of the memories were difficult to watch? This was one of the worst. I suppose it's enough to say that I had a very bad dream that night of unseen people shining bright lights directly into my eyes. It was so bad that I had a massive headache for hours after I woke up. The strange thing was that everyone in the carnival had a nightmare, not the same nightmare but something that involved torture. Everyone reported that they wanted whatever happened in their dream to stop, but they couldn't speak for some reason. And many of them had pain that lasted even after they woke up. So Lydia, Joseph, and I came to understand that these weren't just dreams. They were memories, Sarah's memories. It was her way of telling us what happened where she used to live."

They turned back to the mirror and saw a large crowd gathered around the fortune tent. Joseph stood in front of them, and he held up his hands to command quiet from the mob. "I know none of us have gotten a decent night's rest for the past couple of nights. And I have heard the whispered rumors that our newest guest is to blame. I know it has been a great discomfort, but I am here to tell all of you that these nightmares were a blessing. Sarah has delivered us a warning that would have gone unheeded.

"I have been to her institution. I investigated their research, and what I learned greatly disturbed me. This mental facility says it treats people with various forms of autism, but in actuality it has taken people who are so disadvantaged, like Sarah, and subjects them to torturing experiments in order to force them to manifest an ability like ours. Some of their patients have submitted willingly, hoping to better their lives. Others, unfortunately, were taken against their will, separated from their families for this selfish plot. And then there are those, like Sarah, of whom are no consequence, with no ties to anyone, whom this society sees basically on the same plane as lab rats. All of them had been there for years, and few escape. Few had even seen the world beyond those walls. Sarah was very lucky to have found us. Therefore, I urge all of you, if ever anyone comes to this carnival from Northpoint, do not turn them away. No matter how severe their cases may be, we must take them in and end this cruel injustice."

"And what if we have more dreams?" someone shouted from the crowd. Many people shouted in agreement.

"You will have no more dreams!" Joseph answered. "I promise you from this day, they will be gone. I know what to do." He took Sarah and made her stand in front of them all, and then he knelt down on one knee and kissed her right earlobe. All at once, the girl's facial expression changed to serenity. He looked at her and said, "Sarah, you have no reason to fear us. We will never do the terrible things that they did to you. From now on, we will keep you safe from them. We love you, and we want you to be part of this family."

There was some doubtful muttering from the mob, and he turned around and faced them again. "I have taken her fear away! The memories of Northpoint live on in her, but she no longer fears them, and she should no longer fear us. She has no reason to give us nightmares anymore. So now, it is up to us to nurture this child and give her love. For she is one of us now."

At this, there was applause. "So," Gabe said aloud, "your brother's power was empathy."

Present Samuel looked at him in shock. "How did you know that?"

"Because that, what he just did, was empathy! He literally understood her feelings and shared with her. In fact, he took them away. You know what? I know someone who did that once."

"Is that right?"

Gabe nodded. "My cousin, Peter. I found out by watching a memory, much like this. When I was just a baby, my mother was going through postpartum depression. She came to visit her aunt to go over her thoughts. Peter was just a boy, and when he saw her crying, he said he wished she would stop crying for my sake. And then, Peter cried nonstop for a month, even though he had no reason to cry and he actually felt happy. He didn't know then that his wish came true, that he really did take her sadness away."

"I think I met Peter," Sam said softly.

"Really?"

"Uh, but that's another story for another time. You're right. He could take away her sadness and her fear. And it was a good thing, too. As we learned more about her power, we taught her to look into other people's minds and hearts, see their destinies, and give them dreams. And sometimes she saw things that no child should see, deep of the heart of some of these people. She would become upset and give us nightmares again. We caught some rather dangerous men that way, but Joseph was always there to placate her, to calm her. But now . . ."

"He's gone."

Sam nodded.

"So, you want me to put out the fire? Is that what this is about? I'm sorry, but I'm no empath. In fact, real empathy is just not my strong suit. I find it very hard to put myself in someone's else's shoes, even if they are autistic. There's just so much about the non-verbal side I don't understand."

"Don't worry, Gabriel. I'm not asking you to take the feelings away. But you do speak her language. You have a understanding with her I can never know. And she knows it! Lydia tells me that Sarah has specifically asked for you. She wants to see you! She never requests to see anyone!"

"How can that be? How does she even know me?"

"She remembers you from the dreams! You see, it's through her ability that I was able to bring you here in your dreams. They were real."

"They were?" Gabe said with a raised eyebrow.

"You know, I told you that I it was not my intention for wiping out your friend's existence, and that is still true. But perhaps it was fate. Perhaps you needed that void in your heart so that Sarah could take its place."

"Don't you dare say that!" Gabe growled.

"Very well." Sam looked entirely desperate now. "Please, just talk to her. See what she has to show you. Maybe she'll open up to you. Gabriel, I've done so much to make her feel extra-special here, like a princess. Lydia and I took her out into the world to buy all the best clothes, all her favorite jewelry. We even let her pick her own crystal ball. It's really a snow globe with no ornament inside, but she loves it. And then this morning, she looked at me with terror. She threw a fit at my feet and wouldn't let me come near her. She broke my heart! Please, Gabe, try to find out why. That's all I ask."

"I take it this means that no one else from Northpoint ever came to the carnival."

"No," Sam answered shaking his head. "Hopefully, that means it was shut down."

"I hope so too. You know, my father was there. He was one who was taken by force, and I was told he was killed. He escaped after four years."

Sam just shrugged and said, "Small, strange world."

* * *

"I'm going to cross-reference these against the CIA database, see what I can find there." Lauren flipped through Bennet's files and tapped them into her laptop, but she kept looking up at Michael. "You know, he's really starting to creep me out."

"I'll take care of him," Noah answered. He got up and went to the window. "Hey, Michael, call me crazy, but I don't think you're making a lot of progress just staring out this window. If there's someone out there calling out to you, and you're aware of him, why don't you just go on out to him?"

Michael slowly turned to him. "Are you sure that's what you want?" he asked cautiously.

Noah scoffed. "It could be your son! It could be someone else on the spectrum."

"It's not. It's–"

"Look, I don't really care. Whoever it is, they need you. So just go!"

"Alright. Thank you." He walked out of the apartment very slowly, as though he was in a trance.

"Well, that was even weirder," Lauren said. "You got strange friends, Noah."

"That's what happens in this line of work."

Soon after, they had their rendezvous with Eli, and he took Bennet's files. After getting over that, Bennet started kicking himself. "I sent Michael away too soon."

"Why do you say that?" Lauren asked.

"The big secret they were looking for at Northpoint was resistance. Specials who are autistic have a defense mechanism that can make them resist any other powers they come in contact with. Michael probably could have seen right through the duplicates and found the prime."

* * *

Sam left Gabe to find Sarah's booth on his own, explaining that he had to greet some very special guests. Gabe got lost for a while, until he found a large poster of Sarah holding a crystal ball with a caption around her reading "Silent Gypsy Princess." It was right next to a small, purple tent. As he came closer, he could hear music box music. He listened for a moment and recognized that the tune was "Over the Rainbow." He opened the flap, and he saw the girl slouched over the little table staring into the crystal ball.

"Uh, _bonjour _Sarah," he said, and she sat up straighter and looked straight at him. "_Je m'appelle _Gabriel. I hear you have been asking for me." He sat down. "So, what is it?"

But of course, Sarah didn't answer.

"Sam tells me that something's been upsetting you." He leaned over. "Is it the carnival? Are you having trouble with sensory overload?"

Still nothing.

"Sarah, I'm sorry, but I don't know what to do. How can I know why you wanted to see me if you can't tell me?"

"Hey," a voice said behind him.

Gabe turned around. "Hi, Lyddie."

The tattoo lady smiled. "Lyddie, that's cute. I thought I might help."

"I thought you don't do readings together."

"Not usually, no, but since I can feel Sarah thoughts and emotions inside her, I often wind up as her mouthpiece. Besides, I'm just as concerned."

"How come?"

"Because I think she knows things, some things I don't even know. I need to know what they are."

"So, how do I talk to her? How does she reveal things like that?"

"Well, maybe you need to warm her up. Put your hand on the crystal, and ask her a question about your future. That's what most people do when they come in here, and Sarah likes consistency."

He nodded. "Many of us do. So, um . . . " He put his hand on the crystal, and after thinking for a while said, "Will Hiro be alright?"

Sarah didn't move.

"No, no, that won't work," Lydia said. "It has to be about _your _future, not someone else's. You know, the advertisement says that she knows your destiny. So most people, when they come in here, just ask, 'What is my destiny?'"

"But I don't want to know that!" Gabe said. "I'm the only controller of my destiny. The future's not written. God's even given us free will, so it's up to me. And I just don't want to know. It's puts too much pressure on me." But then he looked up at Sarah. "On the other hand, there is something I would like to see. If you could take me back to Paris, the town that brought me up. Take me to those times when I was a child with no cares, no knowledge of a disability or a superbility, nothing but curiosity and wonder and happiness. If I were rich, I would pay gold to be there again, solid gold."

At that, Sarah put her hand on the crystal ball. There was a flash of purple light, and the surroundings around Gabe changed. He was standing on the Champs Elycee at Christmas time. All the colorful lights surrounded him, and he could smell chestnuts in the air and feel the cold nip in the wind. Just as he took that moment in, he was standing on a pebble beach with an ice cream cone in hand, and he smelled the salty Mediterranean breeze and felt the foam around his feet. Memory after memory came back to him, and with every experience, his heart overflowed with joy. He didn't want it to end. Everything seemed an antithesis of what it used to be.

* * *

Peter didn't know why his eye kept getting caught by the pigeon coop when he was up on the Devereux roof with Nathan. His initial thought was that maybe Claude was there, but then he remembered that Claude was dead. It just seemed like a conditioned response. He sometimes went up there and wondered if Claude was there, and if he wasn't, who was taking care of the pigeons? There was only one pigeon perched on the coop, and he seemed to be looking right at the two brothers. He couldn't keep his mind on that pigeon, but he couldn't stop looking at it either.

And then, Nathan jumped off the roof. Peter tried to pull him up, but Nathan urged him to let go. His word sunk in, "You're gonna have to carry on for the both of us, Pete. Tell Ma I love her. Take care of Claire . . . and Gabriel. I left something for him. It's in my office."

"Don't talk like this, Nathan! You're gonna be alright!"

"Fight the good fight, Pete. You've always been everything that's good in the world, and I got a feeling that the world ain't seen nothing yet!"

"I can't do this without you!"

"You can do anything, Pete, anything, remember that. I love you."

"Nathan, I love you Nathan!"

And then, he let go, and he watched as his brother took a strange Christ-like pose and then disappeared forever into his enemy. But as he was watching him fall, he also watched as the lone pigeon flew down toward the body, and it also changed. "Michael," Peter thought bitterly.

He watched as they both landed. Sylar looked up and waved with a cold, cruel smile on his face. "Gabriel!" a voice called out in the darkness. Michael emerged and approached him. Sylar turned back and with a sharp motion drove Michael away. Peter ran down the stairs to get him.

* * *

"Samuel! Samuel!" Gabe ran through the carnival, bumping into people, until some of the carnies directed him where to go. He saw Samuel sitting on the steps of a trailer. "Oh, there you are! Sam, I just had the most amazing experience. Sarah showed me wonderful memories of my childhood, and they invoked every one of my senses. More than that, they filled me with such emotions. I haven't felt this good in so long! It's like I'm a child again!"

Samuel smiled. "Sarah did all that for you? She really does like you. Most people who leave her feel really depressed. She doesn't give sugar-coated readings."

"Only there is one thing," Gabe said calming down. "She never told me what was wrong with her, why she threw that fit in front of you this morning. Believe me, I asked, but she didn't tell me or show me anything."

"Ah," Sam said, lifting his finger, "or did she? You see, that's one thing you need to learn about Sarah. You work on her timetable. She doesn't work on yours. You'll have your answer. Just . . . sleep on it."

"Why didn't you tell me it would wait that long?"

Sam shrugged. "You'd have to meet her first."

"Oh, it doesn't matter. _Merci beaucoup. _Thank you for introducing me to her. Thank you for offering your help. Thank you for everything." He took both of Samuel's hands and squeezed them as he spoke.

"So I'm not just the monster who annihilated your friend anymore?"

Gabe immediately let go. He can't believe he almost forgot about that. Still, "We'll settle that later. Our liberation is more important."

"Agreed."

Just then, Gabe noticed a trickle of blood running down Samuel's face. "Sakes alive! What is that?"

Samuel smiled again. "A gift from an unhappy customer. But don't worry, a friend of yours is taking care of it."

"A friend of mine?" He turned around and saw a familiar girl with a washcloth in her hand. "Claire!"

"Gabe?" She was not prepared when he threw his arms around her neck. "What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?"

"Long story."

"_Oui, moi aussi_." (Yes, me too.)

As she treated Samuel's wound, she looked at Gabe. "How about this place, huh? You know, I never really understood that thing you keep saying that there's no such thing as normal. I just thought you were crazy or shortsighted. Here, it started to make sense. This is like your utopia, isn't it?"

"Not exactly my utopia," Gabe said. "No library, no school. If I stayed here, it would just be the same thing over and over again. I've always been curious. I've always wanted to expand my mind. I don't think I could do that here. Plus, the tendency for sensory overload doesn't help things."

"Well, still, everybody like us is out in the open, doing what they do. The abnormal is the norm."

"You're right about that. This place, it's like Martha's Vineyard, except instead of a colony of hearing impaired people, it's for us."

"We're not that different, are we?" Sam spoke up. "We're learning new things about ourselves, searching for ways to live our lives on our own terms. We've been sold a bill of goods our whole lives, taught how to be comfortable being a second-class citizen. Now, I am challenging that. And so are you. I know what both of you are thinking when you first came here, that this place is awfully strange, and yet strangely familiar. We all think it's a little strange."

"A little . . . carnivalesque?"

Sam laughed and pointed at Gabe playfully. "Nice Bakhtin reference. And yes, there are ways to expand your mind, even here. This is the only life many of us have ever known." Then he looked seriously at both of them. "But we could be more. We can be bigger if we can just figure out how."

"We will, one day."

His smile seemed to get delirious as he said, "Not just one day off in the distance, Gabriel, sooner. I strongly believe that both of you could help us do just that. I think it's time for some soul searching."

Gabe shook his head. "There's no more soul searching to do. If it's not beyond them, it's not beyond us."

"Then at least we must take some time to figure things out." He stood and looked at Claire. "You're welcome to stay a few days and do just that before you go back to school." He started walking on, but Gabe followed him.

"What about me?"

"Actually, I would prefer if you stay just for a little while. You see, it's not as easy to let you get away. I usually give people like us a special compass so that they can find their way back. I want to give one to you, but I can't."

"Why?"

"See for yourself." He pulled out a compass and put it in Gabe's hand. The little arrow turned counter-clockwise faster and faster and faster until the glass shattered. Gabe backed away with a gasp. "Once when I was making these, Sarah came too near, and the same thing happened. I think it's that aura of resistance about you. That's why I've been reaching out to you in dreams. It's sad, but it seems like there's a part of you that doesn't want to be here."

Gabe didn't know how to explain that, so he didn't even try. "So, you want me to keep talking to Sarah?"

"Yes, there's that. But I also have a couple of errands tomorrow that I think you could help me with. I have to meet two people who both have disabilities. I understand that's your strength."

Gabe nodded. "I'd be honored to help you."

"I thought you might. Well, there's an empty trailer. Lydia will show you. You can sleep there for the night."

* * *

Gabe was surprised at how soon he fell asleep in a strange place. He didn't realize how tired he was. His dream at first seemed promising. He was in Washington, D.C. standing on the steps of the Capitol building at the podium. There were people as far as the eye could see, holding signs, watching him steadfastly. Gabe's heart was brimming with hope.

"My friends," Gabriel said into the microphone, "I am so glad that all of you could come today to change history!" There was a loud applause. "We are here, and we are together. This nation, this world cannot deny us now. Before long, our rights will be known, and we will no longer be a stigma sticking in the world's side. We will break down the barriers of normalcy held against us for so long. We will show the world that we are the future!" Another loud applause. "Thank you. Now, my good friend who has fought this battle with me to these steps, Samuel Sullivan, has asked to lead an interfaith prayer to bless our future. So please, make him welcome."

There was some light applause as Gabriel backed away to let Samuel take the podium. He nodded and whispered, "Thank you," as he took his place.

Then, there was absolute silence. Samuel stared at the whole crowd for a moment. Then he lifted his hands high above his head and raised his face to Heaven. He still didn't say a word. "He didn't tell me it was going to be a silent prayer," Gabe thought. He watched as a smile slowly crossed Samuel's lips. He heard a sudden sound from Samuel, but he couldn't tell if it was a gasp, a sob, or a laugh. Then, both of Samuel's hands curled into fists.

Suddenly, the ground began to violently shake, but somehow it didn't shake where the group was standing. In horror, Gabriel watched as the Capitol building's iconic dome broke into rubble and fell. The building then imploded. The same thing was happening with other iconic buildings, the White House, the Supreme Court, the Library of Congress. And Gabriel knew exactly where this earthquake was coming from.

He ran to his guest speaker's side. "Samuel, what are you doing?"

Samuel just smiled at him. "What you wanted."

Gabe sat up straight in bed hyperventilating. His future was going to lead to that? That's not what he wanted? It could be just a dream. Maybe this wasn't the dream Sarah gave him, but there was only one way to find out.

To be continued . . .


	11. Putting the Pieces Together

Chapter 11: Putting the Pieces Together

Everything seemed to run together. Gabe thought of Sam's inspirational speeches and everything he promised. He even thought of Sylar's double telling him how good a resource Sam turned out to be. But in between everything, he remembered the destructive dream, all those buildings falling apart before his eyes. He just wasn't sure who to trust anymore. He stayed in bed well after the sun came up just ruminating on these thoughts.

Finally, he got up and fixed a fresh cup of coffee. He was so tired he couldn't lift his head. Sarah sat down at the other end of the table with her breakfast. Gabe thought about sitting down closer to her and asking her questions, but he knew that would be useless. He started looking for Lydia. Eventually, she sat down beside him. "Rough night?"

Gabe sighed. "Listen, you said Sarah knew things. Like what kind of things?"

Lydia suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Well, for one, I think she knew the night Joseph died that . . . he was going to die. She was greatly upset, more than usual. I saw him take her tears away. I'm starting to wonder if she knew how it happened."

"Yeah, I know about that . . . or at least, I think I do. I may have my stories mixed up. So, when you have a dream that Sarah gave you, how can you tell it's from her and not just an ordinary dream?"

"Because it feels real. She can activate all five senses so powerfully. You can't forget one of her dreams."

"And they always come true?"

"Well, unless something changes. It's like you said, nothing in the future is set in stone. But why are you asking me all these questions? Did you have an upsetting dream last night?"

Gabe nodded. "I did."

"Well, what was it?"

"I don't know if I want to talk about it yet. I'm just trying to put the pieces together first."

"Like what?"

He looked up at her wearily. "What can you tell me about Samuel?"

Lydia cleared her throat uncomfortably. "What do you want to know?"

"Is he a good man? Can he be a dangerous man?"

"Joseph always called him a man of ambition. That can be dangerous."

"What's wrong with ambition? I'm ambitious! It's my goal to win the Nobel Prize eventually."

"Just with the wrong intentions, I guess. But he does love this family. He says he'll do anything to protect it."

"How much is anything?"

"Um, if you excuse me, I need to talk to Amanda." She stood and approached a teenager. Gabe sighed at being blown off like that. He hoped to have a friendly conversation with Claire after that, but then she talked to Lydia. Gabe buried his head on the table, until he felt a hand on his shoulder shake him.

"Hey, sleepyhead! Ready to go?"

Gabe lifted his head to see Sam's smiling face. "I suppose so."

He got up and followed Sam but lagged behind. "Gabriel!" Lydia called him. He turned around. She approached him and said quietly, "Be careful around him."

"I will. _Merci._" Then he continued to follow.

* * *

"You seem rather distracted today, Gabriel," Samuel said as they climbed up some stairs. "Is something the matter?"

"Actually, _oui,_" Gabe answered. "I had a bad dream last night."

"Is that so? Did Sarah give it to you?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out."

"Well, go on, tell me! I'll help you."

But Gabe had another idea. "What's your name?"

Sam scoffed. "Samuel! Samuel Sullivan. What, have you me forgotten already?"

"And what do you do?"

"I run a carnival and take care of my family."

"What color is the sky?"

Sam just laughed and shook his head. "What is the meaning of this? These are questions you know!"

"Don't be offended, _s'il vous plait._ I'm just trying to put the pieces together. I'll explain later."

"Very well. Take your time." They finished climbing stairs and went down the hallway and stopped in front of a door. "Alright, we're here. Now, just let me do the talking until I need your support."

Gabe nodded. _"D'accord." _(OK.)

Sam pushed a strange, buzzing doorbell several times. The door opened a crack, and a woman's head peeked out. "EMMA!" Gabe shouted in surprise, before realizing that saying her name that loudly wouldn't mean a hill of beans to her. She didn't even notice him.

Sam signed to her as he spoke aloud, basically asking to talk to her because she was like him. She seemed unwilling to talk because he could hear. As she was closing the door, he stopped her and said, "Emma, I gave you the cello!" She looked at him and behind her in disbelief. "And I believe you know this fellow." He stepped to the side and revealed Gabe, who smiled and waved at her.

"Gabe!" she said aloud. Then she opened the door and let them both in. "Why are you here?" she signed.

"I wish I knew," Gabe signed back. "I came with him."

Samuel spoke to her more about her powers. She told him how the power cracked her wall, and he said it was because of her own fears and uncertainties. He talked about another person who had the same fears who was living homeless in Central Park. It sounded like his power had to do something with flourishing plant life. Samuel tried to convince Emma that she could help find him, but she didn't understand how. He took the cello and told her to follow him. As she did, Gabe signed to her, "I did not know you had a S-U-P-E-R-B-I-L-I-T-Y."

"What is that?"

"It is my made-up word for an ability that is, you know, a bit fantastic. We have to think of a sign for it, something that combines 'super' and 'ability.'"

She smiled. "What is yours?"

"Do you remember when you asked if I was an interpreter?"

"Yes."

"Well, that is what it is. I originally speak French, but every other language is automatically translated in my ears, and I can speak every other language perfectly, even adapting accents to the people I'm speaking to."

"So, that's how you were able to sign so quickly."

"Exactly."

"That's incredible." She pointed toward Sam. "So, who is he?"

"I am not entirely sure anymore."

She looked closer at Gabe. "Are you ok? You look tired."

"I had a bad dream, about him."

"Well, at least it is just a dream. He seems like a nice man."

"Yes, that is what he seems like. He says he is going to help me with a group I am trying to gather, but I am starting to wonder if his help might end up disastrous."

"What group is this?"

"Oh, yes! Now that you have powers, it would be great if you could join. Are you on Facebook?"

"I thought about it, but I think it might be a distraction."

"I understand. I am not an official member myself, but I could give you a link to my group anyway."

"OK." They walked on for a while, then she signed to him, "Did Peter tell you that I met your father?"

"No."

"It was a few weeks ago. It was such a strange thing. He would not talk, but when I started playing the piano, he was up there playing too. He is a beautiful player. I could tell from the colors, and he was so passionate. I could feel his music."

"Yes. That is my Papa."

"Oh, so that's what your father can do," Sam suddenly said aloud.

Gabe was annoyed that he was watching, and in a way, eavesdropping. "You know, I'm curious. How do you know how to sign?"

"I told you, there are opportunities, even at the carnival, to expand one's mind."

"So you just from a book because you had nothing better to do?"

"That, and . . . well, you never know if someone who's deaf visits your carnival."

"You shouldn't identify people by labels."

Sam scoffed. "Excuse me," he said contemptuously.

Gabe watched and listened as Sam described to Emma her true power as siren and as she used her cello to summon a homeless man. Sam wanted Gabe to talk to him afterwards, but Gabe couldn't think of anything to say. Emma offered to take him to the hospital. It turned out he just needed some medication to become more lucid. Sam told Emma that he hoped to see her again soon. Then Emma came up to Gabe. "It was nice to see you again," she signed.

"Likewise," he signed with a nod.

"I hope you feel better and that you sleep well tonight."

"Yes, I hope I do too."

As she walked on, Gabe spotted something on a television screen above the desk. He came closer to hear what they were saying. He shook his head. "_C'est impossible,"_ he mumbled.

"What is it?" Sam asked as he came nearer.

"They're saying that Senator Nathan Petrelli was killed in a plane crash, but that can't be right. They must have made a mistake."

"Why do you say that, Gabriel?"

Gabe looked at him and said very quietly, "Nathan Petrelli doesn't need a plane."

"That is strange. Well, we need to get home."

* * *

After returning to the carnival, Gabe went back to his trailer and sat on the bed just to think. He checked his cellphone, and he found a text message from Peter asking him to call right away. He wondered if it was about this whole mixup with Nathan, but he wasn't ready to call him yet. Gabe wanted to get some things straight in his mind first. All he could think of were new questions.

Maybe another meeting with Sarah could help clear things up. He walked over to her tent, but he saw that she wasn't alone. Sam was there.

"I met someone very special today. She was a lot like you, but she couldn't hear. A lot of those who can't hear don't talk . . . the way most people do. They talk with their hands. She could do both, but maybe . . . maybe you can also learn to talk with your hands. It would help us communicate with you. It would help us understand what you want." Sarah didn't answer. "Alright, tell you what. I'll teach you one sign tonight, a very special one." He held up his right hand and bent down his two middle fingers to the palm. "This means, 'I love you.' Can you do that for me, Sarah?" She didn't move. "That's alright. I'll do it for you." He held up the sign again. "I love you, Sarah." He turned around and walked out, and nearly right into Gabe. "Gabriel, what can I do for you? Oh, I must show you what our new friend has done to the place."

"I saw it. It's nice," Gabe answered flatly. "You know, I was just wondering, if the dreams were real, where's Sylar? How come I haven't seen him around the carnival?"

"He ran away."

"How could he have even been here in the first place? I watched him decompose right before my eyes!"

"I don't know! I didn't know he was dead."

"Oh come on, fess up. It was a trick, wasn't it? It was a way you carnies were trying to drag me into this crazy place!"

"No, it wasn't a trick! Gabriel, what's the matter with you? Don't you trust me?"

"_Non, _I don't!" Gabe put his hand over his lips. It came out more strongly than he thought.

"Why not? What have I done to lose your trust?" He came down closer and said more bitterly, "Is this about your Japanese friend? Are you never going to forgive me for that? I told you, it was a mistake, and I don't know how to fix it. We used to have a time traveler in the carnival, but he was old and dying. I wanted to ask him about Hanami, but I was worried it would put him under too much strain. He died just a few weeks ago."

"It's not just that. I want to trust you, Samuel. I really do. I really want your help, and I want the support of everyone in this carnival, but not with the wrong motives."

"Wrong motives? What are you talking about?"

"The dream I had last night. We were in Washington, D.C. doing some sort of Million Man March deal. I was standing on the steps of the Capitol building giving a speech, and I was surrounded by people with superbilities, maybe everyone in America, maybe everyone in the world. It just looked like so many. And I don't know the occasion. Maybe it was a protest. Maybe there was a law about to be passed in our favor. But I felt very hopeful, very happy. And then I asked you to lead an interfaith prayer. You came up to the podium, raised your hands, looked up at the sky, clenched your fists, and then all the buildings in Washington imploded, and everyone inside was killed! And you told me it was what I wanted. I was just thinking about that image all day, wondering if it was real or just a dream."

Sam put his hand on Gabe's shoulder and looked into his eyes. "It was just a dream, Gabriel. That will never happen."

Gabe backed away.

"You still don't trust me?"

"Do you know what I was doing when I asked you all those obvious questions? It was a trick I learned a few months ago. When you are not sure if you are talking to a liar, ask him questions that you know he will answer truthfully and watch his face closely. Then ask him the harder questions. If his facial expressions are different than when he answered truthfully, chances are he's lying."

Sam smiled. "Well, did I pass your test?"

Gabe shook his head, _"Non."_

"Gabriel, I'm not prejudiced against people who have no superbilities. Hey, they're our customers! Besides, the love of my life is an ordinary person."

"But you know, there's something else. When you said in that dream that you weren't a killer, I saw something flash on your face. I don't even really recall what it was, but I knew what it meant. It's called a microexpression, and it told me that you were lying."

Sam scoffed. "That was just a dream!"

"Oh, so now it's just a dream, now that it indicts you?" He turned his back on Sam. "I don't think I should work with you, Samuel. I'm sorry."

"What about Sarah?"

"You can find someone else to talk to about her. 1 out of 150 autistic people has superbilities; you're sure to find one." He started walking away.

Claire ran to him. "Gabe! Have you heard from Peter?"

"He sent me a text. I haven't replied yet."

"Gabe, something happened to Nathan."

"Oh, I saw on the news that he was killed on a plane crash. It can't be true! There must be some sort of mixup, right?"

Claire shook her head. "That's not what happened, but it's not a mixup. He's dead."

Gabe felt shocked, like the earth gave out from underneath him. Nathan, dead? Why? Part of him thought, "Good riddance," but that just made him feel ashamed.

"Come on. I'll take you to the funeral, and I'll explain on the way."

* * *

The story just made Gabe more anxious. It was too complicated for take in, especially on top of everything else. It just made more questions, and it was too much for him to handle. So he sat in silence in Claire's car and silently watched at the grave side service. He wondered why Claude didn't get this much pomp and figured it was because Nathan was a senator. At the wake, he felt forced to talk as he was engaged in conversation. People he didn't know came up to talk to him, and Gabe gave them curt, perfunctory responses. Then Peter greeted him. "The last thing he told me was that he was too busy to talk," Gabe said.

"Hmmm," Peter nodded and patted Gabe's back.

"Of course, that wasn't really him, was it? It was Sylar, right?"

"Gabe, not so loud!"

"_Desole."_ (Sorry)

"He was Nathan to me, as long as he was Nathan, even if he didn't think so."

"How could it be?"

"Look, I don't know how it works, but . . . that's just how it was to me."

"You know, he said he left something for you. I guess it was something not in his will. After this, I'll take you to his office to get it for you."

Gabe nodded. "Alright."

Shortly after, Great Aunt Angela came over. "I want to ask you something," he said. "You once told me that you lied about Sylar to me, and that I would one day thank you for it. What did you mean by that?"

"Gabriel, now's not the time," she answered.

"Then, will we be the time? Because we need to talk about this!"

"I don't know. When we're not holding my son's funeral."

"I think I know why. You had a vision that I was drowning, and Sylar tries to save my life, but because of who he was I refused his hand, and I fall to my death."

"As I said, Gabriel, that's not appropriate to talk about at a wake." She walked by him briskly.

* * *

Michael was sitting alone, and Peter came to visit here. "I don't feel comfortable here," Michael said. "I barely knew him."

"You know, Michael, I find that incredible," Peter said. "Just a few months ago, when a murderer who sought your life more than once was dead, you couldn't stop crying. You've been crying for months for him. And now, when a member of your own family passes away, you don't shed a tear and you complain about feeling uncomfortable."

"You don't understand, Peter. I was working on converting Gabriel. I was so close."

"And yet so far," Peter mumbled.

"Exactly!"

Peter shook his head and went away. Then, Michael pictured the Gabriel with glasses sitting next to him. "So, now we know."

"Now we know," Gabriel echoed.

"And now he's not possessed anymore."

"No. And now that I'm out there, you have to find me."

"He's not going to receive me, you know."

"I think he will, eventually. We just need to keep trying. I won't let you down."

"You'll let me use my powers?"

"Of course. There's not a moment to spare."

Michael got up and left.

* * *

Late into the night, Gabe was still sitting in the same spot, about ready to fall asleep. Claire sat down beside him. "Hey, are you OK?"

"Claire, let me try to understand. I've been hearing things. Nathan's your father?"

"Um, yeah."

"What about the spy?"

"He's my adopted father, remember?"

"But . . . when Nathan was alive, you were alive. I don't understand. Did he abandon you?"

"Well, he wasn't, um . . . they weren't exactly–"

"You were illegitimate."

"You don't have to be that blunt, but yes."

"_Je suis desole_, but I understand. My mother was illegitimate. I guess those things happen."

"Yeah, they kinda do."

Gabe sighed and shook his head, deciding not to say aloud the thoughts in his mind. "Who was your mother? Or do you even know?"

"You remember Meredith? She burned down the Primatech building last year."

"I remember her. She had warm hands. She died in the fire, didn't she?"

"Yeah."

"You know, I guess this means . . . we're related too."

"Third cousins, yeah."

"It's just hard to get my mind around. I would have never believed that we were related."

"Why do you say that?"

"I don't know. We look very different. We think very different."

"Well, third cousins, that's pretty distant."

"Still, we're about the same age. It's just strange, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess it is."

"Gabe!" Peter called. "Come on."

Peter drove him to Washington, and they went up to Senator Petrelli's office. Some of it was already stripped down, but they found on Nathan's desk a couple of boxes with books and folders on top, and on top of those was a video cassette labeled "Gabriel Bonhomme." Peter went to the nearest TV with a VCR, popped the video in, and it played instantly. The first image Gabe saw was Nathan backing away from the camera, evidently after just starting it. Then he sat down at his desk, and flashed a big smile. _"Bonjour Gabriel," _he said. Then, his smile faded, and his tone turned wistful and mournful.

"There really is only one word that comes to mind when I think of you, Gabe, and that word is regret. First of all, I regret that I wasn't part of your life sooner. You know, when I told you that it was a relief to us that you didn't come may have been the wrong thing to say. Thinking back on it, I realize that it may have sounded that I didn't want you to come live with us, but that wasn't true. It's the whole reason I brushed up on my French, just so I could talk to you. And the boys, they were so excited about having a big brother. I guess the challenges just scared us all, but there really wasn't anything to be afraid about.

"Secondly, I regret what I did to you a few months ago. I know we told each other that we were sorry, but I'm sure that this is something you cannot forgive so easily. Hey, I'm having trouble forgiving myself. I hope that you can eventually find it in your heart to forgive me. I am grateful that we made peace with each other, at least. It would break my heart to think that you thought me to be a second Hitler going down to my grave." He chuckled, and added, "But knowing who's inside of me, I guess I am at this point.

"Thirdly, I regret how quickly I ended our conversation the other day. You know, I wanted so badly to connect with everyone in my life, to become a better me than ever, but I let you down. I'll never know what you wanted to say. But there was a reason why I cut that conversation so short that I didn't tell you, and it leads to the greatest regret I have of all now."

Nathan began choking up. "I regret that I did not keep my promises to you. When you called, I assumed that you wanted me to talk about your mother, and I wasn't ready. I wanted to remember her. I wanted to overload you with stories, but it was just so long ago. I just couldn't! At least, not on my own. On my desk, I left for you some boxes full of keepsakes, photo albums. Ma dug them up for me. Some of them brought back memories that I tried to record in a journal. I'm sure it's not the half of it. Gabe, she was a clever, wonderful young lady. I know she cared deeply about me.

"Finally, there's another promise I made to you that I have not forgotten. I told you that I would offer legal advice for this endeavor that you are taking now. In some of those other boxes, I left some of my well-worn books of law that I'm sure will teach you tons about the legal processes. I've also left some contact information of some of the best lawyers in town. Just tell them I sent you, and I'm sure they'll do all they can to help at a reasonable price. I didn't put her name in, but I'm sure Tracy Stauss will also put you in contact with some good people if you got in touch with her.

"Gabriel, I have every faith in you. I've known you for a very short time, but I believe that no matter what you do, you're going to be successful. You're just like your mother; you put your heart into everything that you do. So . . . _bonne chance," _(Good luck). Then Nathan paused, looked away from the camera and brushed away a tear, and then he turned back and said very softly, "_Peut Dieu vous benir. Allez avec Dieu." _(May God bless you. Go with God.) Then he reached up to the top of the screen, and then it went to static.

Gabriel was crying hard by the video's end. He looked over at Peter and said, "You had a good brother. That was beautiful. Oh, but I wish he were still alive."

"You mean now that you know him better through this, you think–?" Peter started.

"_Non_, not just this. I need an ally from Washington. Something really bad is going to happen here, and I need someone to warn everybody so that they can . . . wait a minute." He hit his forehead with his hand. _"Je suis stupid!_ _Bien sur_, the spy! He lives here! I must see him right away."

"Gabe, it's late. He's probably asleep by now."

"I don't care if I have to sleep on his doorstep, but I will talk to him immediately!"

So Peter drove him down there, and thankfully Noah was still awake, and he wasn't alone.

"_Femme fatale! _You're here too?"

"Am I always going to be that?" Lauren asked wearily.

"Gabe," Noah said anxiously, "I'm glad you came down. This is important. Do you have the compass?"

"You mean Sam's compass?"

"Yes, the one that shows you where the carnival is."

Gabe shook his head. "_Non_, it doesn't work on me."

Noah groaned and punched the wall.

"But there's something I need to tell you. I had a premonition. Samuel is going to do something terrible to Washington, D. C. You have to stop it, or at least get everyone prepared."

"We'll do what we can Gabe, but first we need the compass."

"You just want to get to the carnival, right?"

"Yes."

"I can get to the carnival without the compass."

"You can? How?"

Gabe grinned a little. "How would you feel about laying your life in the hands of a man who is clinically insane to go into an autistic mind?"

Lauren and Noah both looked at each other, as if asking each other if they heard what they thought they heard.

To be continued . . .


	12. Tell the World

Chapter 12: Tell the World

"Did I just hear you right?" Lauren asked. "Did you just say 'insane' and 'autistic' in the same sentence?"

"Really pushing the 'nothing is normal' agenda, aren't you, Gabe?" the spy said with his arms crossed.

"I'm serious!" Gabe answered.

"Alright, let's deconstruct this request," Lauren said. "This clinically insane guy, is . . ."

"It has to be Walter Bishop," Noah answered.

"Walter Bishop? Is he on the loose?"

"The FBI Fringe Science division released him from St. Claire's a year or two ago," Gabe explained.

"Fringe Science? Haven't heard of that one."

"Well, there's a reason. It's the FBI after all."

"The FBI would keep that from the CIA?"

"Never mind that," the spy said shaking his head. "What's Dr. Bishop up to?"

"He helped me discover a new ability," Gabe explained. "I'm called a lucid pre-dreamer. If I think about hard enough before I go to sleep, I go there in my dreams."

"So can anybody. Psychologists have proven that intense concentration before sleep can affect your dreams."

"_Non_, they're real! Sometimes I've even woken up with souvenirs. This, for instance." He pulled out the "Mind Over Matter" button. "Sam gave it to me, in a parallel universe. You won't find another one like it here. I've visited the carnival in my dreams twice. And that was before Sam appeared in Claire's dorm. Ask your daughter how he greeted me sometime."

"I would, if she were speaking to me.'

"He said, 'It's nice to see you in the flesh.' He knew I only met him in another realm."

"Say what you claim is true," Lauren chimed in. "What does that have to do with Dr. Bishop?"

"He can connect someone to another's conscience. Olivia even told me that she went into the dreams of someone who was in a coma."

"Wait, you're saying that not only you can dream up the carnival, but . . . we can come with you?" the spy asked.

"That's what I'm saying. However, it does come with some risk. You will be heavily drugged with hallucinogens as well as floating in ice cold water in your underwear."

"For Claire's sake, I'd endure that and more. I'm in."

But Lauren shuddered. "Not me. It sounds creepy."

"That's alright, Lauren. You can stay here and continue to look for leads." He looked back at Gabe. "Now, I do need to warn you. The doctor's probably not going to be very thrilled to see me. I've had a history with him, and I'm ashamed to say it's not very pleasant."

"Monsieur Rains told me about some of that. I'm just going to tell him that we need to put that aside. As you Americans say, this is a matter of national security."

* * *

Samuel wandered around the grounds of his carnival. Everyone was asleep, except for one who was walking alone and stopped when he saw him. "Hey, Samuel. You alright?"

Samuel shook his head. "Can't sleep. What's keeping you up, Doyle?"

"I just got up for a drink of water. I was heading for the spigot." He moved closer to his ringleader. "What's the matter? Did Sylar–?"

"No, it has nothing to do with him. I'm worried about Sarah. She's slipping away from me, after all I've done for her. I just don't understand!"

"You know, Sarah reminds me a lot of a girl I used to know in Costa Verde."

"Who's that?"

"Her name's Harmony Miller. Sweet girl. A little annoying, but ok. She's autistic too, about as bad as Sarah. Her verbal skills are limited. She's obsessed with 'Pinocchio,' and she's convinced that I'm Strombolli, only she pronounces it 'Strom-bully.' It might be beneficial if Sarah met her, if she could come down here. She may not be able to tell us as much as Gabe could, but maybe it will help calm Sarah down to have someone like her here."

"Is she like us?"

"Yeah, but you're not gonna like her power."

"Alright, then I'll be careful around her. What do you know about her parents?"

"I only met her mom, once, but I hear that her father's a preacher. Jack Miller, the Costa Verde Church of Christ."

"Well, although I'm not a very Christian man, I know what the men of the cloth like to hear." Samuel smiled to himself and stopped pacing. He looked at Doyle. "Thank you. I have some good ideas now."

"Great! When will she be here?"

"By day's end. I was planning on being in the area anyway, and I can kill two birds with one stone."

* * *

Dr. Bishop reaction was about how Gabe and Noah anticipated. They woke Peter up, but he said his father was still awake and reciting the Periodic Table to himself. Once the doctor came down, he took one look at Noah and panicked. Gabe told him as he rehearsed and made his request. Dr. Bishop calmed down, but before he gave his consent he said seriously, "Have you considered the consequences of what you are planning to do?"

"Not exactly, but I have considered the consequences if we don't, and they are unacceptable."

"What you are proposing can be very dangerous."

"We have to take the risk!"

He smiled. "You sound just like Olivia."

"Yeah. Well, let's get to the lab. I'm almost dead on my feet here."

Once they got to the lab, Gabe rested on a cot. Dr. Bishop put nodes on the young man's forehead and asked if he needed to take anything. "_Non_. I'm nearly asleep as it is. Just give me some dark and quiet so I can concentrate. It would probably be best if I went on to sleep. Maybe I'll be in REM by the time the spy's ready."

"Very well," Dr. Bishop nodded. "I would wish you pleasant dreams, but I am not sure in this case if that is what you are seeking."

"_Alright_," Gabe thought. _"The carnival . . . the carnival . . . Samuel . . . the compass . . . Sarah . . . Lydia . . . carnival . . ."_

Next thing he knew, he was standing outside. It was chilly and kinda damp in the air, but Gabe was most surprised at how quiet it was. Where's the calliope music? Where are the bright flashing lights?

"This doesn't look like a carnival," a voice said behind him. Gabe turned around and saw the spy there.

"I don't underst–" Suddenly, his surroundings came more into focus, and he realized where he was. "Wait! That's the S.S.A.G. headquarters! We're on the other side, the parallel universe!"

"You're telling me you're having the wrong dream?"

"_Non, non, non!_ This could still be beneficial. Sam's double might be here, and he might be more willing to give you a compass!"

"Will he be on our side?"

"Probably, once I explain things. Come on." Gabe didn't know how they got there, but secretly he was glad. Now he has a chance to show the spy this world where his people were liberated. So he led Noah on and opened the door.

Lydia looked up from the desk. "Hey Gabriel! Long time, no see."

Gabe nodded. "_Bonjour_, Lyddie."

"And who's that with you?"

"Oh, this is Noah Bennet, a friend of mine. Um, is Sam here? We need to talk to him."

"Yes, he's just in the other room here. I'll get him." She got up and went into an office, then she walked back out followed by Sam who was smiling, but once he laid eyes on Noah, he went rigid and cold.

"You. Come back for me, eh?"

"What?" Noah said.

"You look just like the man who killed my brother."

"I didn't kill your brother."

"I thought it was Danko." Gabe spoke up.

"No." Sam started walking closer. "Danko's pale and has almost no hair. But he was about the same height as you, and he had those same, stupid, horned-rimmed glasses. I remember thinking it was really ironic that one of his kind would need glasses, unless that was the way he tried to pass."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Noah asserted again.

"Of course not. You're not to blame. He just walked around in your skin and then somehow let you have it back. How you survived is beyond me." He stood nose to nose with the spy. "But if you really are innocent, prove it. Give me your hand."

Sam grabbed the spy's hand before he could offer it. Then he took out a pocket knife and drove the point into Noah's finger. The spy groaned in pain. Sam just looked at the blood welling up from his finger, and said nonchalantly, "Huh, red. You're clean. My mistake." Then he started wiping his knife with a handkerchief.

"Sam!" a voice shouted from the hall. "What are you–?" There was a gasp and hurrying feet to where they stood, but Gabe couldn't see who was coming until Noah pulled out his gun and cocked it. "No, spy! _C'est bien! C'est bien! _He's good here!"

"Relax, I just want to look at the wound," Sylar's double said slowly in monotone.. "I can help you if you'll let me."

"How do I know that you're not bluffing?" Noah asked.

Sylar pulled something out of his pocket. "I have a bandage here. I could get a healer, if that's not too much for you."

"No, the bandage is fine."

So Sylar cleaned the finger and put the bandage on it. Then he looked over at Sam. "I could have told you he was an ordinary."

"I know," Sam answered, "but where's the fun in that?"

* * *

Jack Miller unlocked the doors to the church to go to his office, but just as he got in, he heard someone crying. He followed the sound of the voice and found a man weeping in the auditorium. "How did he get in here?" Jack wondered. He figured that there was a door unlocked somewhere. He came closer to see what was wrong with this stranger, but right as he approached the man, he grabbed his arm.

"Bless me, father," he whispered.

"Call no man on earth 'father,' for One is your Father, He who is in Heaven. I'm just a man."

The stranger wiped his tears. "Sorry."

"Is there . . . something . . . you would like to talk about?"

The stranger sniffed. "I was praying for my daughter. She's . . . she's possessed. The doctors call it autism, but I know that's the name of her demon."

"No, no, that's not true. To tell you the truth, I have an autistic daughter as well. She is blessed more than she is cursed."

The stranger looked intently at him. "Tell me more."

* * *

"Let me guess," Sylar said to Noah once they were all sitting in his office. "You have a child who is starting to exhibit abnormal behavior, and you are at your wits end trying to hide it from the rest of society."

Noah sighed. "I do have a daughter who has an ability, but I wouldn't call it abnormal behavior, and I wouldn't say I was at my wits end about anything."

"Well then, what are you doing here?"

"We came to talk to Sam," Gabe answered.

Noah turned around to Sam, who was leaning back in a chair by himself. "We need a compass."

"Sorry, I don't make them anymore," Sam answered casually.

"Then, do you have an extra one from when you did make them?"

"Nope. I destroyed them all. They were a good promotional gimmick for a while, but then they ended up in the wrong hands, and my brother got killed. Can't risk that again."

"Well, is there anyway at all that we can find the carnival?"

"The carnival's been on hiatus. It would be more beneficial for my community if they came here than if they, say, rode the carousel."

"What's this all about anyway?" Sylar asked.

Gabe leaned over his desk and looked at him. "I met Sam on my side. He's agreed to help me."

"Well, that's excellent! Didn't I tell you he's a good resource?"

"Oh sure, he's great. But then I had this premonition that sometime in the future, he's going to destroy Washington D. C. We have to stop him."

"But that doesn't make sense. The fact of the matter is, for the time being, we're still a minority. If the nation's capital is destroyed, who's going to vote for us? Who's going to make sure that we have rights?"

"That's what I've been thinking. It's the whole reason why we're there. I kinda wonder if he's got some sort of prejudice against . . . what did you call them? Ordinaries?"

"Ridiculous!" Sam spoke up. "If his life is anything like mine, I can't see how that can be true. Vanessa's an ordinary."

"Vanessa who?" Noah said looking at him closely.

"Vanessa Wheeler," and then Sam held up his left hand to show his wedding band, "Sullivan. She's the love of my life, and I wouldn't dare let anything happen to her."

"So what part of the carnival does she play?"

"For your information, she's not part of the carnival. She's an accomplished cellist in the Los Angeles Symphony."

"Sam, Sam!" Sylar's double interrupted. "Remember what we talked about. This guy, whoever he is, he's you, but he's not you. Still, you might be better than anybody else to get into his head. Why don't you and Noah talk for a bit?"

"What?! With him?!?" Noah and Sam said simultaneously.

"Sure. You can stand each other for fifteen minutes. We'll let you have the office." He got up from the desk. "Come on, Same Name." Gabe followed him as Sam continued to stutter protests. Sylar's double shut the door.

"Are you guys saying you don't believe me?" Gabe asked.

"It doesn't make much sense to us, but a lot of crazy things happen across dimensions. I'll talk to Belly about it. In the meantime, why don't we talk? Let's go to the break room."

* * *

"Grant him the peace that passes understanding that he may train his daughter in the way that she should go, and may they walk with You. In Jesus's name, amen," Jack prayed.

"Amen," Samuel echoed. Then he stood and stretched out his hand. "Well, thank you so much. My mind has been eased of its burden already."

"Wonderful, Samuel. Well, I hope my advice will help you and your little girl."

"Actually, do you know what I think would really help her? If she met your little girl."

"That would be nice. How about you bring her to services sometime?"

"I'm afraid I actually live rather far. Could she come see us?"

"It depends. Where do you live?"

Samuel rubbed his neck and chuckled. "This is where it gets awkward. We live in a carnival."

"Harmony loves carnival and amusement parks. Let us know when you're coming through town, and I'm sure she'll be happy to come."

"I'm afraid we're not coming through town."

That's when Jack realized what he was saying, and his expression changed. "Get out."

"Jack–"

"I really think you should leave. I'm not giving her up."

"It's not quite–"

"Go!" He pushed Samuel out of his office and shut the door.

* * *

Sylar's double pulled out two bottles of some sort of soft drink and handed one to Gabe. "This is probably the most popular drink out now."

Gabe took a sip and made a face. "It tastes rather . . . bland."

Sylar's double shrugged. "Most things do around here. In fact, it's usually when they have flavor that they're dangerous. If they taste sour or bitter, they're probably laced with mercury."

"Mercury? The element?"

"No, the planet."

"Well, how could they put a planet in . . . oh, wait, you're being sarcastic aren't you?"

"Yes, I meant the element."

"Why would they do that?"

"For the hybrids. They need mercury to live. That's the whole reason why Sam pricked your friend's finger. Hybrids have silver blood."

"Oh. So, what did you want to talk about?"

"I just thought there was something on your mind other than this disaster in Washington. You look kinda sad about something."

"Ah, that. My second cousin passed away. It was rather sudden to me. I just found out about it today and came back from the funeral. He left me a personal video will. I didn't know him very well, but he said some very nice things."

"I'm very sorry to hear that. What was his name?"

"Nathan Petrelli."

Sylar's double choked on his drink. "Excuse me. On this side, Nathan Petrelli isn't, uh, exactly . . ."

"I know. He wasn't on my side either. I compared him to Hitler for his neo-genetics a few months ago."

"Hmmm," Sylar's double nodded as he took another sip.

After a bit of a pause, Gabe asked, "Why did you get into this?"

Sylar's double smiled. "Therein lies a tale. I guess I'll give you the short version."

"Oh, I think we got time."

"Well, a few years ago, a geneticist named Chandra Suresh came to my watch repair shop. He told me that he believe that I had special abilities. It was too wonderful for me to grasp. I always wanted to be different, special, but now that the opportunity presented itself, I felt alone, insecure, scared. Chandra assured me that there were others, and as he continued to run tests on me he promised he'd introduce me to someone else he had contacted. That person never came. He finally admitted to me that when he called people, they hung up on him or laughed on the phone, called him a lunatic. So I took a name. I called someone named Brian Davis.

"He came to my shop one afternoon, showed me what he could do. I watched as he looked at a coffee mug and pushed it across a counter with just his mind. What was more is I could see it. I'm not exactly sure if I can explain what was going on, but I could see it working in his mind. I could tell he was different. It was amazing, but what got me more was the look of terror in his eyes. When he was done, he looked at me and asked with a meek voice, 'Can you make it go away?'

"I thought he was crazy. He told me that he didn't know what it was or who might get hurt by it. All he knew was he didn't want it. I told him, 'You're not broken.' I'll never forget his answer. He said, 'Tell that to the rest of the world.' He was afraid having this thing that made him special would make him a freak. I promised I would help him.

"I was determined to find people who had superbilities who were in control of them and were living productive lives with them. Hiro was probably one of the first people I found."

"And then folks like Claire and Peter and Claude, right?" Gabe interjected.

"Believe it or not, they were rather reluctant. Dale was probably next."

"I don't know him."

"Her, actually. She has super-sensitive hearing. And then my sister . . . the sister I didn't even know I had. But anyway, it wasn't long after they started coming out of the woodwork. I met hundreds and then thousands of people who had these various conditions and could do all sorts of things. Some of them felt comfortable with it, and some of them were still learning how to deal with it, but at least we had common ground."

"You helped a lot of people."

"Yeah . . . except Brian. A few weeks after I met him, he killed himself."

"Oh, that's awful! Did he leave a note?"

"He didn't need to. He already told me the content. I couldn't keep him from feeling broken. 'Tell that to the rest of the world,' he said."

"So, that's what this is all about? You're telling the world."

Sylar's double took another drink, closed his eyes, and nodded.

"Do you ever get . . . worried that someone with superbilities will do something . . . terrible? You know, like, hurt a lot of people?"

"Oh yeah. We don't need the stigma. Goodness knows we got enough to deal with already."

"Like the hybrids?"

"They're dangerous. They killed Chandra Suresh because they wanted to silence him."

"Chandra is dead on my side, too." Gabe thought about how to phrase this question. It was hard to talk about to Sylar. "If there was such a person . . . out there, who did these things . . . what would you do?"

Sylar's double took a long time to answer. "I . . . I'd try to help them. We'd rehabilitate them, teach them how to control whatever they're experiencing and express it in more . . . productive ways. I mean . . . we don't want anyone to get hurt. It probably would be really hard. Thank goodness it hasn't really happened over here yet."

"I wonder what you'd do in my world. The friend I brought here has seen too much of that happened. He's become more of an oppressor. He doesn't want us to exhibit our abilities in public."

Sylar's double sighed. "That's why I distrust ordinaries. They all seemed to be that way, no matter what you tell them."

"I wish I could stay here."

"It shouldn't be too hard. I mean, Belly did it. All you have to do is go through the door, or the gate or whatever. Olivia can open it. You know, Belly told me that there's someone on your side from our side."

"The hybrids? You told me about that."

"No, an ordinary. He said his name was . . . Peter."

"Peter Bishop?!"

But Sylar didn't answer, and Gabe realized that he was sitting up in the cot. He had woken up very suddenly. Shortly after, he heard movement in the tank, and Noah practical fell out. Dr. Bishop tended to both of them. The spy still had a bandage on his finger.

"Well, was that helpful at all?" Gabe asked.

"Yeah, it was," Noah answered. "I got a lot of useful information. Unfortunately, I still don't know where the carnival is, but I think I can find someone who can bring it to me. Thanks, Gabe."

"_De rien," _Gabe nodded as he left. He thought about that one last detail. Well, maybe it meant nothing. And it could have been someone else named Peter. Certainly not Petrelli, but it was probably someone he didn't even know.

* * *

Later in the day, Jack heard someone moving around in the auditorium. Jack got his heaviest Bible and walked carefully in, but as the man turned around he recognized him. "Michael!"

"Jack Miller! There you are. Have you come to practice your sermon?"

Jack put down his Bible. "No. Actually, I'm just on edge. There was a strange man here early this morning. I think he was intending to kidnap Harmony."

"Oh. Well, he's not here."

"That's good. You know, I haven't properly thanked you for saving my life in Haiti."

"It's no problem. I was just coming by here to ask if I could borrow a hymnal."

"A hymnal?"

"Yes. I am trying to convert someone, and I think it might do him good to hear some encouraging songs."

"Well, we have a great edition here. It's got a lot of the classics and traditional songs, but it's balanced out with some more contemporary songs in the back. You can go ahead and have one."

Michael pulled one out of the pew behind him. "I appreciate it."

"Hey, it's the least I can do for someone who saved my life." And as Michael left, Jack called after him, "Hey, good luck! I mean, God bless!"

"Same to you!"

* * *

In the evening, as Vanessa was sitting alone waiting for Samuel to tell her why he kidnaped her, she saw a pretty girl walking alone. She had a very sad look on her face. Vanessa smiled and called out, "Hi!" to her.

The girl looked up at her and screamed. She started flapping her hands and turning in circles.

"What's wrong?" Vanessa called.

The girl took one last look at her and ran away as fast as she could.

To be continued . . .


	13. In the Hour of Trial

Chapter 13: In the Hour of Trial

Note: The hymn should be in public domain.

A couple of days later, Gabe got a call in the morning. "_Allo_?" he answered.

"Hello, is this Gabriel?"

"Ando? What is it? Is Hiro OK?"

"Actually, he's not. I called to let you know that he's in the ER."

"Oh no!"

"He collapsed earlier today. The doctors were saying they may have no choice but to operate."

"Will he be alright?"

"The best doctors in Tokyo said there was nothing that they could do. I'm not holding much hope."

"Well . . . _s'il vous plait_, let him know somehow that I will keep him in my thoughts all day, until I hear something."

"Yes, I will try."

"_Merci."_ Gabe hung up the phone and started praying the same prayer he had prayed every day since Hiro told him about the tumor. "Dear Lord, please be with Hiro. Send him help in his hour of trial. If it be Your will, Lord, please heal him. I do not know Your plan, Lord, but as far as I know, we still need Hiro."

Then in the early afternoon, Gabe went to the lab, sat down at a desk, and bowed his head again, saying about the same thing. In the middle of his prayer, he felt a hand touch his shoulder, and it made him jump because he wasn't expecting it. "Gabe, are you alright?" It was Agent Dunham.

He nodded. "I'm praying."

"Oh." She left him alone for a moment, but when he raised his head, she asked, "What's the matter?

"My friend, Hiro is in the hospital. He might die today.

She bent down and smiled. "You know, I realize you're still grieving over your cousin, and I guess your thoughts are still full. You can take the afternoon off if you want."

"_Non_, that's alright. I'll still help."

"Think you're up to it?"

"_Oui_."

They brought in the body of a man with some kind of purple slime all over his skin. The reports were that this secretion reacted very quickly to the slightest touch and poisoned people. Dr. Bishop tried to innoculate the body with a sedative, but it rejected the needle. So he advised everyone in the lab to put on gas masks as he pumped the sedative in while it was in a gaseous state. He thought that would absorb more quickly into the victim's skin anyway. As the cold smoke filled the room, the man's glossy skin hardened. Then it was time for surgery.

Gabe watched Dr. Bishop and waited for instructions when he heard, "Psst!" He ignored, and then it grew louder and more persistent, "Psssst!"

"Astrid, you might want to tighten the nozzle," Gabe said. "The gas is hissing."

Then he thought he heard a voice whisper, "Oi!" And then someone clearly was snapping fingers in front of his face. Gabe looked up and saw Claude standing on the other side of the body looking at him intently.

"Not now, Claude. I'm working," Gabe said flatly as he turned back to Dr. Bishop.

Suddenly, he felt a hand grab his wrist. It felt warm. It felt real. Most of all, it felt tight and it even hurt. Gabe looked up again and saw that it was Claude's hand, and he had a desperate look on his face. How could this be?

"What is it?" Agent Dunham asked. Obviously, she couldn't see him.

"What is it?" Gabe echoed in about the same tone.

"I need your help, Gabriel," Claude said quietly. "Or, to be more precise, Hiro needs your help."

"I can't help Hiro. He's thousands of kilometers away, and I know nothing about brain surgery."

"Well then, don't worry about it," Astrid said. "Hiro's not you responsibility."

"You want him to live, don't you?" Claude said. "His soul's at stake!"

"His soul? I don't understand," Gabe answered.

"Well, I've only ten minutes to explain it to you, so let's get to it. Let's do it Q-style." He snapped his fingers, and the room vanished.

The others saw Gabe blink a few times, look around in confusion, and then back away from the table. "Gabe! What are you doing?" Astrid shouted.

"Oh, leave him be," Dr. Bishop said. "He's in a better place."

* * *

When Vanessa was still asleep, Samuel joined the rest of his family at the table. He refused food, just coffee, wanting to eat with his girl. He was solely there for the benefit of everyone else. Then, he noticed an empty place, a seat that shouldn't have been empty.

"Where's Sarah?" He looked around. "She's usually up by now. Has anyone seen her?" A lot of people around the table shook their heads. Lydia came to the table late. Samuel approached her. "Lydia, have you seen Sarah?"

"I was just coming to tell you," she said. "She's not in her tent. Her crystal ball is gone, too."

Samuel's face flushed with panic. "Oh no, she's run away. Eli!" His new right-hand man ran straight to his side. "I need you to split up and look for Sarah."

"That's not going to work, Samuel, and you know it," Eli answered. "The minute I find her, she'll make me disappear. That's what she always does."

"You'll have to handle it, Eli. I have other matters I must tend to." He got up from the table and left.

* * *

Sylar waited in Bapst Hall for his prey. He wrote her name over and over again. This kinda took him back. He could remember before when writing like this gave him release from the pain within. It was quiet in the room. All he could hear was the squeak of his chalk. Then, there was a very distant voice singing. It seemed to echo in the empty room.

In the hour of trial,

Jesus, plead for me

Lest by base denial

I depart from Thee.

When Thou see'st me waver

With a look recall,

Nor for fear or favor

Suffer me to fall.

The hollow echo, the melodious tenor, and the religious message of the song made him feel like he was in a monastery. Sylar didn't like it. Luckily, after that one verse, it stopped. Just then, Claire walked in.

* * *

Gabe looked around at his new surroundings. The lab and his mask were gone, and he could smell coffee, eggs, and pancakes. He and Claude were sitting in a booth with a sticky table. "How did you do that?" he said quietly.

"Let's just saying being dead is not without its perks," Claude answered.

"So where are we?"

"Well, it appears to be the Burnt Toast Diner in Midland, Texas, but that's just a human perspective. It's not where we are really."

"What's that?"

"You don't want to know."

Gabe noticed as a head lifted. It was Hiro. Then a smarmy, well-dressed man smirked at him. "Hello, Carp," he greeted.

"Who's that?" Gabe asked.

"Adam Monroe, forefather of the Company," Claude answered.

"Never heard of him."

Claude scoffed. "Count your blessings."

"But you are dead!" Hiro said. "Am I dead?"

"That's for the judge to decide," Adam answered.

"All rise!" a commanding male voice ordered. "The honorable Judge Kaito Nakamura presiding." An elderly Japanese man took his place at a well-lit seat.

"That's Hiro's father!" Gabe gasped.

"Be seated and come to order!" the voice said. Gabe noticed the speaker was a young man in a military uniform.

"What is the case before us?" Kaito asked.

"The world versus Hiro Nakamura, your honor," Adam answered.

"What?!" Gabe whispered. "Why would the world put Hiro on trial?"

"Shh! Listen!" Claud hissed.

"Hiro Nakamura," Kaito read, "you are charged with breaking the hero's code, willfully altering the time line for personal gain."

"That's ridiculous!" Gabe said.

"I know, but listen. This is important," Claude said.

"If found guilty, the crime is punishable by death."

Gabe was just beside himself. How could they? Was it because of Hanami?

He listened to Adam say, "It is our intent to prove that the defendant abused his power to bend space and time selfishly and repeatedly for his own personal gain and for a blatant disregard of the consequences on the space/time continuum."

"It _is _because of Hanami," Gabe whispered.

"You'd be surprised," Claude whispered back.

"How does the defendant plead?" Kaito asked.

"Plead?" Hiro said.

"Not guilty, your honor!"

Hiro looked beside him at the source of this new voice. _"Oni?"_

Claude, at least from ten minutes ago, nodded at the judge. "Judge Nakamura." Then he nodded at Hiro. "Nakamura, Jr."

Adam chuckled and shook his head sadly. "What are you doing here, boy?"

"For your information, I received a summons." He pulled out a piece of paper and stood, but then paused. "Oh, excuse me, if I may approach the bench, please."

"You may not," Kaito answered. "Hand that to my bailiff."

"Of course." He handed the paper to the military man, who gave it to Kaito.

The judge read aloud, "Please be with Hiro. Send him help in his hour of trial."

Adam scoffed. "And you're the one who's sent?" He laughed. "Well, obviously, Carp, the tides are not in your favor."

"Huh?" Hiro grunted.

"Don't listen to him," Claude said quietly. "This is just a routine formality. You'll do fine."

"Opening arguments, counsel?" Kaito asked.

"Excuse me?"

"What do you intend to prove to the court today?"

"Oh, that." He walked away from his table nervously. "Well, er, my Japanese is a bit rusty, so I don't know the appropriate term there, but, uh . . . YOU'RE ALL NUTTERS! All of you, completely mental! Straight out of Bedlam!"

"Alright, boy," Adam said, "enough of the cute, Cockney slang. You're a lawyer, for goodness sakes. Some decorum, please."

Claude gave a frustrated sigh. He pointed at Hiro. "I can't remember what it means in Japanese, but it's easy to recognize that in English 'Hiro' rhymes with 'hero.' And I truly think that no one on earth lives up to his name more than this man does. And I intend to prove that whatever damage the defendant has done to the time/space continuum was accidental, involuntary, and no fault of his own."

"So, he was negligent?"

"Well, no, not exactly negligent, but–"

"You're describing gross negligence, counsel!"

"Alright, fine, if that's the 'legal term.'"

"You know, that's no excuse."

"Even so, he does not deserve death for what he's done."

Adam walked up closer to Claude so that they were almost nose to nose. "So, you actually have faith in another human being. Well, that's new. That's not what I saw from you last."

"I'm not the one on trial, old man," Claude said quietly.

"Not this time, but I'm still going to take you down. And we both know what that means."

"So, that's what this is about," Gabe said. "This is your case, and you want my help. But what can I do?"

"You'll see," Claude answered.

* * *

"Here's what I've been thinking," Sylar said. "You and me, we got a lot in common. We're both adopted," he wrote that on the chalkboard, "by parents who didn't want us and raised by parents who didn't understand us."

"My parents understand me just fine," Claire answered.

"Stop lying to yourself. Both of our dad's were cold-blooded killers, which is ironic because you and I . . . cannot . . . be . . . kil–" But as he wrote those words on the board, he heard that voice singing again:

With forbidden pleasures

Would this vain world charm,

Or its sordid treasures

Seek to do me harm . . .

He turned back to Claire. "I thought this was a public campus."

She scoffed. "It is!"

The voice sang,

Bring to my remembrance

Sad Gethsemane

"Then why does it sound like a monastery in here?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't tell me you don't hear it."

Or in darker semblance

Cross-crowned Calvary.

"CUT IT OUT!" Sylar paused, and the singing stopped. He sighed. "That's better. Now, where were we?"

* * *

Gabe listened to the testimony from Monsieur Monroe's first witnesses, young Ando and Kimiko. They talked about the moment Hiro discussed on the phone with him at the carnival, and young Ando pointed at Hiro as the culprit. Adam announced confidently, "The witness has identified with Hiro Nakamura who has clearly and selfishly interfered with the time line."

"Objection!" Claude said jumping to his feet. "He was pushed."

"Objection, hearsay!"

"Overruled," Kaito said.

"Er, which one, your honor?" Claude asked.

"You, Mr. Rains."

Adam approached him with a smirk. "You can't make a claim like that unless you actually witnessed the event. Otherwise, it's hearsay. Or don't you remember that from law school?"

"When did you go?" Claude asked bitterly.

"A couple of centuries before you were even born."

"Why does that not surprise me, old man?"

"You know, I think we had this conversation before. You have no memory, do you?"

"That's enough!" Kaito announced while banging a sugar shaker. "Let's return to the case."

"Ah, yes. Thank you, your honor." Adam gestured to the witness stand. "Your witnesses, boy."

"Why does he keep calling you 'boy'?" Gabe whispered.

"Same reason I call him 'old man,'" Claude answered.

"But he's clearly younger than you."

"So it would seem."

Claude cleared his throat and approached the stand. "Now, if I understand your testimony, you say the slushy fell out of your hands and hit this strange, old man."

"_Hai_," both teenagers answered with a nod.

"But did this strange, old man fall into you?"

Ando looked at Kimiko for a moment. "He did, didn't he?"

"He made me lose my balloon," she added.

Claude shot Adam a grin in victory. "And was there anyone else with this strange, old man?"

Ando shook his head. "I didn't see anyone."

"There were many people," Kimiko added. "It was a carnival! It could have been anyone who bumped into him."

Adam crossed his arms and smiled with a satisfied nod.

Claude sighed. "Alright, fair enough. You can't remember everything. Well, tell me what happened after losing your slushy, and your . . . balloon."

"Oh, it was the most wonderful night ever," Kimiko answered. "I felt bad that Ando lost his slushy, so I told him how handsome Ando is."

"And I felt bad that Kimiko lost her balloon, so I told her how pretty she is," Ando said.

"And we kissed on the Ferris wheel. And he's made me so happy ever since."

"So, in the end, it was a good thing that you lost your slushy," Claude concluded.

"_Hai_," both teens nodded.

"Thank you. You may step down." The teens looked confused because the floor was level, so he said very quietly, "Go back to your seat." Then they left the stand. Then Claude turned back to the journey. "So, there you have it. My client helped these two fine, young people . . . fall in love. I wouldn't call that selfish. If anything, I would call that self_less_. What crime is there in love? True, they'll probably both be . . . tremendously disappointed, maybe even heartbroken by the time this is over, but in the words of William Shakespeare–"

"Oh, he's quoting Shakespeare, now," Adam interrupted. "There's a sign of desperation if I ever saw one."

"Is this true, Hiro?" Kaito asked.

"Yes," Hiro answered. "Two people found love, and no one was harmed. There is no crime in this!"

"Just so I'm clear," Adam said, "on your personal scale of temporal justice, it's OK so long no one gets hurt?"

"Yes, that is my definition," Hiro said after a brief pause.

"That's good to know." Adam turned back to the judge. "Your honor, the prosecution is ready to call its next witness, Hanami Nakamura."

There was stillness in the room. The bailiff called out, "Hanami Nakamura!" but no one moved.

"Oh wait, how clumsy of me. I can't call her because she no longer exists, because of what you've done!"

"What?!" Claude blurted out.

"And you say no one got hurt. What about your precious niece, eh?"

"Who?" Hiro asked.

Claude stood again. "This is ridiculous! It's a joke, isn't it?"

"It's no joke," Adam said. "Since Miss Kimiko fell in love with Ando, she didn't marry, and she didn't have a daughter. Kimiko was supposed to be Hanami's mom, but that can't happen now, can it?"

"No, you're lying!"

"What's this? Did you know her, boy? Oh, so now this is getting personal, isn't it? Now I know the way to twist the knife in your heart. What do you think of your client now? You still have to defend him."

Claude came forward to the bench. "Your honor, tell me he's wrong. You'd know better than anyone else. You're her grandfather."

The judge leaned forward and said slowly, "No. I have no granddaughter."

The bailiff pushed him back to his seat, but Claude's whole expression changed. He never recovered.

* * *

When Samuel came back to the carnival, he met Eli at his trailer. "Did you find her?"

"We searched everywhere," he answered. Then clones appeared who added to what he said.

"The rides."

"The games."

"The food booths."

"The house of mirrors."

"The side shows."

"The surrounding perimeter."

"And every trailer."

"We couldn't find her anywhere," they said in unison.

Samuel sighed. "She's run away." He covered his face. "The poor thing won't be able to survive out there. Well . . . I can't let that bother me right now. Thank you, Eli."

Eli and all his clones left, but Lydia was standing nearby. She heard everything.

* * *

"You're right, you are off your game," Claire said right after she plunged her mechanical pencil into his eye. "You just told me exactly where she is."

Just after she left, Sylar heard feet run into the room. "Oh my . . . are you alright, Gabriel? Oh, goodness. Here, let me help–"

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" Sylar yelled because he knew that voice, and he knew what one simple touch would mean.

"Alright. Let me at least just get . . ." He took hold of the pencil. Sylar pushed his head back. Then, they both screamed. The eyeball came right out with it.

"It's alright, I got it." Sylar took the pencil, pulled the eyeball off of it, and squished it back into his head. He held the spot in place with his hand for a moment.

"Here, to wipe off the blood." Sylar felt cloth against his hand; it must have been a handkerchief.

"Thank you."

"Do you need ice?"

"No, no, I'm ok." He finally felt everything settle into place. The pain was starting to fade. He wiped around his eye with the handkerchief, and he opened his eye. As it came into focus, it first saw a blue book in the man's hand. "You were the one who was singing."

"That's right," Michael answered.

"Why was it that I was the only one who could hear you?"

"I'm not sure if that's accurate. I heard people walk by my room a few times. But I was singing very softly. He told me about your super-sensitive hearing that you got from a mechanic."

"I almost forgot about that one."

"It's a good song, and old song. It's about repentance and confess–"

"What do you want from me?"

"I want the best for you. I could hear what you were saying too, how you feel lost and you're trying to find yourself. If you think you're going to find what you're looking for in Claire Bennet, you're looking in the wrong place."

"So you want me to look to Jesus? That's not going to go over well."

"At the very least, you can take him back."

"Who?"

"That's another reason why you're not feeling right, because you're not complete. I still have part of you, and I can't keep him! This is probably not going to sound right, but . . . it's been like taking care of a lost pet. I fed him, gave him shelter, _washed_ him, and I care about him, but he doesn't belong to me. It's time to give him back to his rightful owner."

"I'm not ready."

"Will you ever be ready, Gabriel?"

"I don't know." Before Michael could say another word, Sylar ran out of the room.

* * *

Gabe listened with contempt as Sylar testified to all the people that he killed, but Monsieur Monroe seemed to make it sound like that he made a deal with Hiro that he could kill all of those people. Gabe found that very hard to believe. He concluded, "If Hiro was acting out of an ability, perhaps he should have stopped this vicious killer before these countless murders. So saving Charlie wasn't for the heroic good. It was for the good of Hiro." He then turned to Claude. "Your witness."

Claude approached the stand and looked at Sylar with crossed arms. "If Hiro had stopped you, what do you think would have happened?"

"Duh," Sylar answered. "I wouldn't have killed all those people!" He smirked and waited for the next question, but Claude didn't move. "And, uh, I wouldn't have gotten there powers!" Claude still didn't move on. In fact, he leaned in closer and cocked his head as though he was expecting something else. "Dude, what do you want me to say?"

"What would happen to you? Where would you be?"

"I don't know. Maybe I'd go back to my shop and fix timepieces again."

Claude turned around. "Thank you, no further questions."

Adam started laughing. "What did that prove?"

"I heard Peter Petrelli say this annoying phrase over and over again, 'Save the cheerleader, save the world.' But if the cheerleader wasn't even threatened, we couldn't save the world, could we?"

"If the cheerleader wasn't threatened, the world wouldn't be threatened, either."

"How do you know that?" He turned to the judge and the jury. "You see, I am a fan of another time traveler, one simply called the Doctor. Now, he has the power to stop the assassination of Abraham Lincoln or the death of Princess Diana. He could have stopped the Holocaust. He could have even stayed Eve's hand as she reached for that tempting fruit. But he doesn't! Because he sees the big picture, the big intergalactic picture. He knows not only the time/space continuum would be affected but the whole universe would plunge into chaos, even if those atrocities were magically mended. However, the people he does interact with in his time travels are much like this girl, Charlie, incidental, unimportant, ordinary. Good people, nonetheless, perhaps even a bit immature. The Doctor needs them, though. He's the last Time Lord, after all, and without them he'd be traveling alone. Perhaps he sees a bit of their fate as well, that they need him as well as vice versa. Now, Hiro, obviously not quite as wise as the Doctor, but I believe that he has the ability at least to glimpse that bigger picture and understand things that you and I cannot, Mr. Monroe. Isn't that right, Hiro?"

Hiro stood. "_Hai. _Charlie was special. The world was better because she was in it. I believe that, and I stand by it!"

"Is it better than it was when Hanami was here?" Adam asked. Claude hit his forehead with his hand and ran his hand down his face.

Hiro slowly shook his head. "I don't know," he said softly.

"The prosecution would like to call its final witness. Charlie Andrews!"

"Charlie Andrews!" the bailiff echoed when no one moved.

"Oh, that's right. I forgot we can bring Charlie in either because this world-improving person is lost in time. Now, tell me, how did that happen again?"

Hiro mumbled an answer.

"I'm sorry, you have to speak up."

Hiro said louder, "I made a deal with a villain, and he double-crossed me."

"Right." He looked at Claude and gave a small shrug. Then he turned back to the bench. "The prosecution rests, your honor."

Hiro and Claude both sat down. "I thought you said this would be easy."

"That's called 'encouragement,' and I don't do it very well," Claude answered. "Besides, I thought it would be easy. I didn't know as much about this case as I thought."

"Mr. Rains," Kaito said, "please call your first witness."

"Oh crud, it's my turn. Well, I can't call who I want to call, obviously. Um, who was the man who convinced you to do this in the first place, the villain you referred to?"

"I don't remember his name. I call him the Butterfly Man."

"Mr. Rains!" Kaito ordered.

"Well, it's worth a try." Claude stood. "Your honor, the defense calls the true perpetrator, the Butterfly Man, to the stand."

Adam burst out laughing loudly.

Kaito pounder his sugar shaker. "This is no time for jokes! Call your witness by his proper name!"

"Er," Claud started scratching his neck, "your honor, I request a recess that I may procure a witness. I'm not as flashy and put together as Mr. Monroe."

"You have ten minutes."

"That's it?"

"Ten minutes! Adjourned!" He banged his sugar shaker, and everyone disappeared.

"So now, you're all caught up," present Claude said.

"That's all you need? OK, um, the name you're looking for is Samuel Sullivan."

"Samuel Sullivan?"

"That's right. He's the head of the carnival. I know he's the one who did it. He even admitted to me that he did it, though he claims it was an accident."

"Alright, I'll remember that. Thank you. In the meantime–"

"All rise!" the bailiff ordered.

Claude ran back to his spot next to Hiro. Kaito wrapped his sugar shaker a few times, and after everyone was seated, he said, "Now, Mr. Rains, are you ready to call your first witness?"

"Yes, your honor," he answered. He stood and said, "The defense calls Gabrielle Bonhomme to the stand."

"What?!" Gabe shouted as he got to his feet. Everyone looked at him.

* * *

Lydia strolled around the carnival grounds, her face out toward the wilderness. Amanda came up behind her. "What's the matter, Mom?"

Lydia sighed. "Eli couldn't find Sarah. I'm worried about her. Samuel's right, she probably won't survive out there. I wonder why he won't do anything about it."

"Why don't you find her? Make a tattoo to show you where she is."

"It doesn't work that way. My skin is not a map."

"Well, it could give us some sort of clue. I mean, it helped you find me, sorta, didn't it?"

Lydia didn't think about that. "Where's Samuel?"

"He ran off with that strange woman."

"Better not waste time, then."

Lydia went straight to Samuel's trailer, grabbed a brush, dipped it into black ink, and stabbed it into her upper left arm. As she felt the ink sink into her skin, she covered it with her hand and concentrated. Then, she lifted her hand and saw a tattoo of two doors flat on the ground. "A cellar?" she thought aloud.

She searched until she saw just on the fringes of the carnival a pair of old doors with faded white paint in a mound of dirt. Lydia bent down and pulled the handle until one of the doors open. She cautiously walked down the old stairs while calling out, "Sarah? Sarah? Are you here?"

As she neared the bottom of the stairs, she faintly heard a music box playing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow." She followed the tinkling sound until she saw the girl sitting on the floor. Her clothes were torn, and her feet were bare, but the most pitiful feature was her face, filled with such sadness and fear.

"There you are!" Lydia said. "What are you doing down here? Everyone's so worried."

Sarah suddenly jumped up and hugged Lydia tightly around the waist. She buried her head in Lydia's skirt and moaned sadly.

"You're afraid," Lydia whispered. "Why are you afraid?"

* * *

"Gabriel Bonhomme!" the bailiff once again ordered.

Gabe started walking toward the stand, but then he stopped and looked at the judge. "Your honor, may I have a minute to confer with the defense attorney?"

"Make it quick. We already wasted ten minutes," Kaito replied gruffly.

"_Merci."_ With that, Gabe pulled Claude out of his seat and over to the side. "I'm not ready for this. I thought you were going to call Sam."

"I don't know Sam! Besides, do you really think the guilty is going to reveal himself in court?" he answered.

"I'm not a good witness! I wasn't at either of the events in question. Everything I can say will be struck down as hearsay."

"You're not here for that. You're a character witness. You can vouch for Hiro's integrity and all the other goody-goody-two-shoeness."

"Well, to be honest, I'm starting to question that. Hiro cares a lot more for this Charlie person than he does about Hanami."

"Yes, I admit, that threw me for a loop. All I know is, I can't lose again!"

"Again?"

Claude sighed. "Alright. When I was dying, I went through the same ordeal, only Adam Monroe wasn't the prosecuting lawyer. He was the judge. I defended myself. I only had one defense, that I used my powers for self-preservation. He didn't buy it, thought I was pathetic."

"I thought you died almost instantly."

"Well, that gives you some indication of how quickly it was over! You studied facial expressions, right? Look at me. What's this?"

Gabe looked closely at his face. "I'd say that's fear."

"Fear! And it's because I got something to be afraid about! I don't know what's going to happen if I win, but I know what will happen if I lose. I can't lose again, you understand?"

"OK, fine. I'll go up there, but I make no promises."

"Good boy."

So Gabe took his place at the stand. The bailiff came up and said, "Raise your right hand." Gabe did so. "Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

"To the best of my ability, yes," Gabe answered.

"Please have a seat."

Claude approached him. "Mr. Bonhomme, how long have you known the defendant?"

"About four or five years, I suppose."

"And how would you describe him?"

"Well, um, friendly, eager, loyal, kind, supportive."

"How about honest?"

"Oh, of course. I've never known him to tell a lie."

"What would you say is the driving force that motivates him?"

"I'd say it's his desire to live up to his name, to be a hero!"

"Tell me, how does he use his power? Does he rob banks?"

"_Non."_

"Has he used it to become famous?"

Gabe laughed. _"Non."_

"Well, what does he do with it?"

"He saves lives. He used it to save the world, more than once."

"Has he ever broken the hero code?"

"Well, I'm not familiar with the terms of this code, but I wouldn't think that Hiro would dare cross a line that he drew in the sand. I'd say that to me the most dramatic thing that he changed me. He used not just his power but his friendship to put me on a new path, a better one. And he did the same with Hanam–"

"Objection, hearsay!" Adam said jumping to his feet.

Gabe winced, but then he looked up at the judge. "_Je suis desole_, your honor. Strike that from the record."

"Objection sustained," Kaito answered.

"So, what do you think changed?" Claude asked. "Why is your friend being charged with such a heinous crime today?"

"I don't know entirely. And maybe he did make a mistake, but he's human. We all do. I don't understand why he should be blame for one little error. And it's not that he's selfish. Far from it! One of the last times he talked to me, he told me about this list he was making, a pail list?"

"Pail list?" Kaito asked.

"I think he means 'bucket list,'" Claude said.

"That's right," Gabe said. "He wanted to use his powers to do good things, to right all the wrongs in his life and make the world a better place for his family, his friends, and for everyone."

Claude turned to the judge. "No further questions, your honor."

Gabe smiled, glad it was over, and started to get up.

"Please do not move, Mr. Bonhomme," the judge said. "Mr. Monroe must still cross-examine you."

"Oh . . . yeah." He took his place again.

Adam came toward him with a slick grin on his face. He leaned on the counter and said, "How are you, Mr. Bonhomme?"

"Anxious and upset."

Adam exhaled a laugh from his nose. "I like that about you. Most people would have said 'fine,' but you hold up your oath, don't you?"

"It's not just that. I'm always rather truthful."

"Well, it's my understanding that you haven't been fine for a while now. So when people asked you that question, what would you say?"

"I think the phrase is . . . so-so."

"So-so? But that's not really how you felt."

"I thought it was. It wasn't happy, but it's not quite sad. It's just . . . existing."

"Maybe you were in denial of your own feelings. It's my understanding that you were miserable and heartbroken. Is it not true that a few weeks ago you went to the hospital after experiencing chest pain?"

"It is true. They sent me away because it was nothing they could fix."

"Right, because it wasn't a heart attack. It wasn't even heartburn. It was heartache."

"_Oui._"

Adam leaned in closer. "And what caused that heartache, Mr. Bonhomme?"

"I . . . I'd rather not say."

"You're rather not say? May I remind you that you're under oath?"

"I'm under oath to tell the truth! I'm not under oath to answer ever question!"

"Answer the question, Mr. Bonhomme," Kaito said sternly.

"What . . . what do they say in America? 'I plead the fifth!'"

"This isn't necessarily an American court," Adam answered. "We have a Japanese judge, a Japanese defendant, two British lawyers, and a French witness. I don't know if you've noticed, but there are at least three languages being spoken here. The Constitution doesn't exactly apply. Now answer the question."

Gabe gulped. "It was because of Hanami."

"Objection, hearsay!" Claude shouted, getting to his feet. He grinned at Adam. "Turn about's fair play, eh old man?"

"Your honor," Adam said to the judge, "let the boy speak. I think you'll understand in a moment what makes his testimony relevant."

"Objection overruled," Kaito said. Claude sat down with a look on his face that showed how unfair he felt this was. Hiro started pulling something out of his pocket.

"Go on, son."

"I could feel the moment she disappeared. She was a part of my heart, my soul. She was part of me. Once she was gone, I felt like something had been ripped out of me." As much as Gabe was fighting to keep the tears back, he started to cry.

Adam's voice dropped, almost to a whisper, "And now that you know that your good friend is respon–"

"_NON!_ I don't blame him for this at all! He told me it wasn't his fault, and I believe him! I don't know how much I can tell you because it would probably be hearsay because I heard it indirectly, but I know who's responsible. He's the one who should be on trial!"

"Your honor," Hiro said standing up, "I have something to say."

"Sit down, you _baka!_" (Fool) Claude whispered.

"Go ahead, Mr. Nakamura," Kaito answered.

Gabe saw Hiro was holding a folded piece of paper. "I do not remember Hanami. She must have been important to me because her name is near the top of this list. I have done nothing for her. When this trial began, I could not understand why I would be accused of this. Now, I see the pain in my friend's face, and it is as clear as day. I have committed a great crime. My interference with time travel has caused someone very important to me to vanish into oblivion, forever. That is unforgivable. I wish to change my plea, right here and now, to guilty."

Adam smiled and triumphantly. Claude looked up at Hiro with disbelief and defeat. Kaito then said resolutely, "So be it. Guil–"

"Wait!" Gabe shouted before Kaito could knock his sugar shaker, "Let me have his sentence."

"What?" Kaito asked.

"Take me instead."

"How cute, the messianic sacrifice," Adam observed.

Claude shook his head and mouthed, "No!" over and over to him, but Gabe ignored him.

"Well, there's a reason for it. You know, I'm just a bitter, young, autistic Frenchman. Sure, I've changed, but I've only changed so much. I don't know if I can go any further, if it's even possible, and I still don't entirely know who I am or if I'll ever find it out. But the world needs Hiro. It needs his enthusiasm, his courage, his _joie du vivre, _joy of life_. _It colors the world."

"You would let a criminal go free?" Kaito said.

"Hey, it's not like it hasn't happened before."

"I am sorry, but that cannot be allowed. You may tell Hiro goodbye, and afterward, Mr. Rains, you must take him back from whence he came."

The shock hadn't left Claude's face. Gabe stepped down from the stool and came toward Hiro. Hiro met him and gave him a hug. He cried, "_Je suis desole!"_ Then he backed up and bowed. "_Sayonara, mon ami."_

"_Adieu," _Gabe answered, but then he pushed Hiro aside and ran for the double doors. Just beyond, he could see nothing but bright light. He felt like he was running in slow motion. Suddenly, Kaito stood in front of him with a sword drawn and stopped him.

"You shall go no further!" he ordered.

"Fine. Kill me. Either way, I'm going."

"Very good, Bonhomme," Gabe heard behind him as he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and saw Adam smiling at him. "You could be a lawyer one day."

Then that hand was pulled away, and Claude was standing at his side, and he hissed at him sternly, "Gabriel, if you think this is helping, it's not. You're just making a fool of yourself. These people don't know the meaning of 'mercy.'"

"That's right, boy," Adam said to Claude, "lose with some dignity, for once."

Claude growled and punched Adam in the nose. Gabe thought he saw blood for a moment, but Adam covered his nose for a second, and then when he removed his hand, his nose was fine.

"Congratulations. You just bought yourself another year to your sentence."

"I don't care. It felt great," Claude growled.

"Gabe," Hiro said suddenly standing next to him, "you don't have to do this for me. I have made my peace. I am ready to go."

Then, in the midst of everything, Gabe heard a whisper, "Gabriel."

"Hush!" he said. Everyone went silent, and he heard the whisper again. "Somebody's calling my name."

"Your honor, what should I do?" the bailiff asked.

"If he is being called, we shall not stand in his way," Kaito answered. He sheathed the sword, and everyone parted forming a path for Gabe. "Follow the voice, but go no further."

"_Merci_," Gabe answered with a bow. Then he ran toward the whisper. He thought it might be his mother, or perhaps that still, small voice described in Scripture. But as he came closer, he could see a yellow glow and the form of a young woman wearing a kimono with butterflies.

"Hanami!" He came up to her and held both of her hands. "It's really you. You're here."

"Gabriel, don't worry about Uncle Hiro," she said. "He'll be alright."

"Good. I'm glad to hear that. But what about you?"

"It's hard to say. I'm not alive, but I'm not dead. All I know is as long as I'm remembered, I exist."

"But . . . we are already starting to forget you. Hiro doesn't remember you at all, and my memory is fading."

"Not anymore." She then put her hand on his heart and glowed a brilliant yellow light. Gabe felt as though a fire had been lit in the depths of his soul and filled him completely. Hanami smiled and took her hand away. "Now, you will never forget me, but you will not miss me because my memories will only make you happy."

Then, he felt her hand slip out of his. He looked up and saw she was being taken away. "Will I ever see you again?" he called out to her.

"I don't know!" she called back. "I hope so!"

"Hanami!" He tried to run toward her, but he seemed to be running in place. She kept getting further away. "Hanami! _Je t'aime! JE T'AIME!" _(I love you.)

And when she was just a speck in the distance, he thought he heard her answer, _"Je t'aime aussi."_ (I love you too.)

That's when Gabe started hearing other voices calling his name, Agent Dumham, Astrid, and Peter Bishop. The brilliant light surrounding him turned out to be a flashlight being shined in his eyes.

"Are you OK?" Agent Dunham asked as he opened his eyes.

"Better than I've been in a long time."

"Listen. Your mask was loose. Somehow when you were wondering around in your autistic fantasy, it came undone. You breathed the gas in too deeply and passed out."

"I nearly died."

"No! You just lost consciousness. It wasn't even for five minutes."

"You don't understand. I was going to give up my life for Hiro. I ran into the light. I saw Hanami again."

"I really think you should take the rest of the day off. You need some time to rest."

"_D'accord. Merci._" As the others left his side, he started wondering if this was all a dream, something his mind put together to deal with this strange situation. But what a strange dream. Usually, his fantasies weren't this fantastic or involved.

Suddenly, he heard Dr. Bishop's old brass bell ring. Gabe sat up and saw Claude standing next to the bell with a grin on his face. "Haven't you ever seen, 'It's a Wonderful Life'?" he said, and then he said in a mock memorization voice, "Every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings."

"First of all, there's nothing in Scripture to support that. Second, what are you talking about? We lost the trial. Hiro's dead."

"No, that was just to get your attention. I didn't mean that ring."

"What do–?" But just then, Gabe's cellphone rang. He answered, "_Allo_?"

"Gabriel?"

"Oh, hello Ando. I think I know what you're about to say, and–"

"It's good news! The surgery was successful! The tumor's removed; Hiro's going to be fine!"

"But . . . I thought we lost."

"Lost what?"

"Oh, never mind."

He then heard Hiro's voice in the background but couldn't make out what he was saying. "_Hai," _Ando replied. Hiro said something else, and Ando said, "He told me to tell you, '_Merci beaucoup.'"_

"Oh. Well, tell him I said, _'De rien.'"_

"OK."

"_Domo_, Ando." Gabe hung up and looked at Claude. "What happened?"

"Well, Hiro's last wish was to go out with honor, so he fought Adam with a sword." Claude grinned. "Got him right through the middle. Made my day. Then, his mother, who seemed to agree with you that the world still needs Hiro, used her power to heal him."

"At least things worked out."

"Oh, one more thing," Claude said coming nearer to Gabe, and he said in his ear, "Call it a bonus."

Then, Gabe's phone rang again. "_Allo?_"

"Hello, Gabriel?"

Gabe couldn't believe it. "Mohinder! Where have you been? I've been trying to reach you for forever!"

"I know, and I'm sorry. Suffice to say that in the past few weeks, due to circumstances beyond my control, I did not have access to my phone. I just now got your messages."

"I see. Well, you see I've been trying to start this group, and I could use your help to reach some people."

"Gabriel, I'm afraid I have some unpleasant news. I'm giving up my father's research."

"What? Mohinder, that's not like you."

"Yes, I know, but there's a girl in India who becomes upset whenever I try to pursue it. I love her deeply, and I don't want to upset her again. Besides, it really only gets me trouble. Last time, I nearly got killed."

"But . . . what will I do?"

"Well, you see, Gabe, I called you because I made an important decision. I'm going to bequeath all of my father's research, including the list and his unfinished papers regarding the evolutionary gene and autism, to you."

"_Moi?_"

"Sure. It sounds like you have plans, and you can certainly make better use of this information than I can right now."

"Mohinder, I'm stunned. I don't know what to say. _'Merci_' doesn't seem to cut it, not even _'merci beacoup_.' I mean, you've always been somewhat of a role model to me, and to think that you think I'm worthy of taking your father's life's work . . ."

"Well, I just think, it's you're turn to grow in this field, and I need to pursue other paths."

"It's my turn to grow," Gabe whispered, remembering that he heard it before. "I'm going to miss you."

"Hey, I'll always have my phone if you need to contact me. I'm sending the papers I have with me now, and I'll mail you the rest when I get to India. You're at Harvard, right?"

"_Oui. _I'll meet you at Widener Library. Thank you." He hung up and looked around, but he was alone.

* * *

Sylar had some time to think, and he walked back to Bapst Hall at twilight. He strolled down the empty halls, until he heard the singing again:

Should Thy mercy send me

Sorrow, toil, and woe,

Or should pain attend me

On my path below . . .

This time, Sylar pursued the voice until he found Michael waiting in a lobby. He even moved his lips to the words because he vaguely remembered them:

Grant that I may never

Fail Thy Hand to see.

Grant that I may ever

Cast my care on Thee.

Michael looked at him and said nothing, so Sylar said, "I made up my mind about something. I'm going away for a while. I need some time to repent, purge my soul. Then, I'll come back to you and take him back. Then, I think we should talk."

"Why delay?" Michael asked.

"Michael, it's clear to me that your life is beautiful. You know who you are. You're happy with who you are. But I just feel so unhuman and disconnected. I think I need to find who I was before I found my powers, but I need to do it on my own."

"How long do you think it will take?"

"It took Paul three days. I guess it'll take me that long, maybe longer. I do whatever it takes."

"I like your determination. Good luck, and God bless you."

"Thank you." Sylar began to leave, but then he turned back, "Oh, and Michael, thank you for caring about me."

"It's no problem. It's just what I'm called to do."

* * *

Sure enough, in the evening Mohinder walked up the library steps and handed Gabe a cardboard box. Gabe shook his hand and said, "_Adieu."_

The last thing Mohinder did was nudge Gabe's arm and say with a wink, "Now, go get that Nobel!"

* * *

Lydia waited with Sarah in her arms for about an hour, but then the sun started to fade. "I gotta go," she said softly, but as she got up, the girl clung more tightly to her. "Sarah, I can't stay here! I have to take care of my daughter and be there for the rest of the family."

Sarah began to cry.

Lydia knelt down to her. "Oh, Sarah, I wish I was like Joseph. I wish I could take your fear away so that you can come up with me, but you're not coming are you?"

Sarah cried and moaned again. Then, she lifted a shaky right hand and slowly pressed her two middle fingers to her palm. Lydia began to realize that she wasn't doing this as a stim. She knew what she was doing. She was trying to talk to Lydia.

"I love you, too."

Then, she got up. Sarah let her go. She walked up the stairs and closed the door. Just as she did, the ground began to shake. She ran out and found Amanda, and they ran to a clearing with the rest of the family and watched as a whole town were swallowed by the earth.

To be continued . . .


	14. The Road to Damascus

Chapter 14: The Road to Damascus

Samuel could feel all of their eyes on him. He knew he was being scrutinized, judged, feared, all for letting his emotions get in the way yesterday. Every time he approached someone, they turned away, moved on with their activities. It was enough to break his heart. He sat down at a table with Lydia.

"I found Sarah," she said, not looking up.

The news brought Samuel happiness. "That's wonderful! Is she alright?"

"She's . . . alive. At least, she was when I saw her. Right after I left, the earthquake happened."

"Where is she?"

"Hiding."

Samuel laughed. "That doesn't tell me where she is."

"Because I don't want to tell you."

Samuel's expression went serious. "Why not?"

"There's a reason why she ran away. She was afraid, more afraid than ever. I don't know why, but I could feel it so strongly in her."

"Did she touch you, or allowed you to touch her?"

Lydia smiled. "She hugged me, very tightly too, and she did not want to let go."

"And yet she didn't reveal . . ."

"Nothing specifically. She probably knew about the earthquake, yet I can't help but think there was something more. All I know is she never wants to come back to the carnival."

"Did she give you a dream?"

"Maybe, but I couldn't sleep. I was too worried about what happened yesterday."

Samuel sighed. "So . . . we lost her. After all we've done."

"I don't think so. She spoke to me. Not verbally, but she communicated a message to me." Lydia made the "I love you" sign.

"She did that to you? Why? Why would she say that to you and not to me?"

"Because you scare her."

Samuel's tone became bitter. "After all I've done for her, for you, for everyone, I'm the villain! And you, you seem to become the empath to replace Joseph."

She shook her head. "No, I'm not Joseph's replacement. Joseph could do things I never can."

"Still, you placate her. She's looking to you now for her voice. Everyone is, aren't they? You've always been somewhat of Sarah's mouthpiece; you've said so yourself. What have you been telling them?"

"Nobody respects you anymore, especially her."

Samuel burned with anger. "Then I'm gonna win it back! I love them! I need them! And I'll do whatever I need to do to prove my worth!"

"I fear that's the problem."

Samuel got up and left. The plan was already starting to form in his head.

* * *

Gabe woke up early that morning and started reading some of the literature Mohinder gave him when his phone rang. He answered, _"Allo?"_

"Hey, Gabe?"

"Peter? How are you?"

"OK. Listen, I have a favor to ask of you, and it's gonna sound kinda weird."

"What is it?"

"You remember our friend Emma?"

"_Oui._"

"I need you to . . . hang out with her."

"Huh?"

"You know, go where she goes, talk to her, maybe take her out to eat lunch somewhere. But all that time, I really need for you to . . . keep up that resistance."

"You mean, you don't want her power to work?"

"Yeah, that's what I mean."

"Why?"

"I took my mother's power, and I've been having dreams. I don't really understand, but Emma's power is going to be responsible for killing a lot of people. I just want to make sure that doesn't happen."

"Why don't you call Renee, the man from Haiti?"

"I thought about that, but I think you'd be the better choice because she doesn't know Renee. She knows you."

"And why don't you take his power?"

"Because I gotta look for . . . somebody else, someone who might be important according to the dream. What's the matter? Don't you want to spend time with Emma?"

"Well, she is a nice woman, but . . . I don't know. I just don't feel right doing that to her. It would be like leading her on."

"Well, if you were her friend, you wouldn't want her to kill a lot of people. So, you'd be doing her a favor."

"I guess you're right."

"OK, I'll pick you up, drop you off at the hospital. I've been having a hard time reaching her, but hopefully she'll be there."

* * *

Later that day, Peter called Michael and asked to meet him at Central Park. He found Michael at the same place where he first saw him, except without the piano.

"What is it you need, Peter?" Michael asked.

"I can't believe I'm asking you this, but . . . do you know where Sylar is?"

Michael nodded. "I do. He's on the road to Damascus."

"Damascus? Where's that?"

Michael shook his head. "It's a metaphor. Remember the story from Acts 9? Saul was on the road to Damascus, intent on imprisoning Christians. But on the way, he saw a light from Heaven and heard the voice of the Lord. After the vision, he was blinded. For three days, he had nowhere to look but within himself. And then he was healed of his blindness, and he was baptized, and he went on to become one of the most important figures of early Christianity."

"You think that's Sylar? Look, man, it's never going to happen."

"I think it is. Gabriel told me that he was going away to purge his soul. I'm not exactly sure what that means, but he knows, as does God."

"Well, even if he does, do you even deserves salvation?"

"Of course not! Who does?"

"No, I mean, how would you feel if that man who killed so many people went to Heaven?"

"I'd feel triumphant in the grace of God, that even such a man can be redeemed. Peter, Paul probably was responsible for much more than Gabriel, and look what happened to him."

Peter sighed. "Let's argue this later. I need to know where he is, literally."

"Why?"

"Because . . . I need his help."

"He didn't tell me where he was going, but I think I can help you find him."

* * *

In the evening, Claire Bennet came to the carnival. Lydia heard her coming. "Claire, what are you doing here?"

"We need to talk," Claire answered.

She held both of Lydia's hands, and Lydia saw everything. "Your father's coming for Samuel . . . to kill him." Immediately, she tensed up. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears. It had been a long time since she felt so afraid. "Oh no. This could be bad."

"It's not going to be bad. That's why I came ahead. I don't want my dad or anyone else getting hurt."

"You don't understand, Claire. I'm not the only fortune teller here. We have another one, who actually sees a lot more than I do. Something terrified her, and she ran away. This could be it! This could be a disaster!"

"It doesn't have to be! All we have to do is have Samuel turn himself in. No one else has to be hurt."

"He won't do it."

"We have to try!"

"Claire, he's not listening to me, or anyone. If your father is really on his way, I should get Amanda."

"Then what, Lydia?" Samuel suddenly jumped into their conversation to ask. "Run away after Sarah? Has it come to that?"

"You don't understand, Samuel. I think there may have been a reason why Sarah didn't want me to leave."

"Then I can't say I blame you."

The three of them had a long talk, and Claire did eventually convince Samuel to turn himself over. However, Lydia kept contemplating in her mind whether or not she should leave. Why didn't Sarah want her to go? Why was she so afraid?

In the end, she didn't know why she stayed. Maybe she thought it would really work and Samuel would hand himself in peaceably. Maybe it was out of concern for the rest of the family. Whatever it was, the decision came with the fatal consequence. She saw with her own eyes what Sarah had seen two days earlier, the massacre. And then she felt the pain of the bullets tear into her flesh, into her heart. Pain that washed over her and refused to relent. Perhaps it was a miracle that she clung to life as long as she did.

Samuel was by her side, holding her gently. "You wanted to know what was in my heart?" he said. Then he knelt down and kissed her lips. The whole scene, the horrible truth was revealed to her in these last moments. She almost gagged it down.

"You . . . did . . . this?"

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he whispered.

Lydia wailed. She suddenly knew how Sarah felt like.

"They needed a villain, someone worse than me. You gave that to them. Thank you."

He kissed her gently on her head, but she had only one thought. "Sarah . . . I shouldn't have left . . . Sarah."

Claire ran up to her with rags, but Samuel said, "It's too late, Claire, she's gone." He set her down and watched as her tattoos faded. He happened to notice a strange one he hadn't seen before on her upper left arm. It looked like a cellar. He wept, but he knew in the depths of his soul that it was just for show.

* * *

Gabe day with Emma was, in a word, awkward. Peter had strictly told him not to let her know about his vision. He said the last time he tried to explain it to her, she told him "Goodbye" with a tone that implied that it was for forever. So even though asked several times, both verbally and in sign language, why he was there, Gabe couldn't think of a good answer. He tried to help her with small tasks like getting the files she needed. They talked a little. Emma asked him what it was like to be autistic, and Gabe asked her if she ever been to Martha's Vineyard and what it was like. He brought his Sudoku puzzle book, and when they had free time, they did some puzzles together.

About 6:00, Gabe signed to her, "I am hungry. Would you like to go out somewhere to eat?"

A uncertain look crossed Emma's face. She looked at him and said aloud, "Gabe, you are a nice boy, and a good friend, and you are kinda cute, but . . . you're a little young for me."

"What? Oh!" Gabe started to laugh, and he signed quickly, "No, no, no, no, it's not a date. I'm not infatuated with you, even though you are kinda pretty, and nice, and a good friend. I'm just hungry, and I didn't bring anything for supper, and I would like to go somewhere with you . . . as a friend."

"Well, you have to admit, this is strange. Why else would you want this much time with me?"

"Please, do not ask me that again."

"Well, I'll go get into my street clothes. Mexican sounds good tonight."

"Mexican. Yummy."

Emma went back into the locker room. Soon after she left, a man appeared at the window. "Excuse me, I'm looking for Emma Coolidge?"

"She's about to get off her shift. Anything I can do for you, sir?"

"It's really important that I see her. I have a message for her, and it's kinda an emergency." He held out an envelope. Gabe and looked closer at the man. He looked sorta familiar.

"Has anyone ever told you that you look like Dave Matthews?"

The man chuckled. "I get that a lot. Too bad I can't play . . . or sing."

As soon as Emma came back, Gabe handed her the envelope. Emma opened it, and she gasped. "Oh no! Something terrible's happened at Samuel's carnival."

"What is it?" Gabe asked.

"This says someone opened fired on them. They had a casualty."

"We need you to come as soon as possible," the messenger said.

"Wait," Gabe said. "You're from the carnival?"

"That's right."

"What do you do?"

"This," the man voice came from behind him. Gabe turned around, but he only saw an identical form of the man for a second before he disappeared. He turned back to the original.

"You really are like Sarah, aren't you?" the man said, annoyed.

"Is she alright?" Gabe asked.

"I don't know. I haven't seen her."

"Gabe, let's go," Emma signed. "We can pick something up on the way down, but this takes priority."

"I agree," he nodded.

"We're coming," she said aloud to the messenger.

* * *

After Samuel ordered Bennet to be tied up in the House of Mirrors and Claire be locked in his trailer, the crowd thinned out. It was the perfect time. "Doyle, I need your help."

"Sure, Samuel, anything."

They walked around until they found the cellar doors from Lydia's tattoo. "Wait here," Samuel ordered. He pulled opened the door and walked down the stairs. He saw her there, sitting in the corner. She looked up at him pitifully, shivering.

"Oh, Sarah," he said mournfully. "Here you are, all alone. No one to kiss your ears. No one to take your tears. No one to placate you." He sat down on his knees in front of her. "Poor, poor child. You know, what I told you all along was true. I do love so much. In fact, I may have loved you the most. And I never knew why it seemed like you didn't love me back. But now, I understand. It's because you knew, all along, didn't you. You know what happened out at the carnival tonight and all that's behind it. You revealed it to Lydia, or at least tried to. And I can't have you reveal the truth to everyone else. It will ruin everything. So, I need you to go to sleep. It will be easier if you were asleep."

Sarah shook her head with a sad look on her face.

So, Samuel went back up the stairs and got Doyle. "I need you to make her lie down and close her eyes."

"Sorry, Samuel," Doyle answered, "if she's like Harmony, I can't make her do anything."

"She needs to have her defenses broken down, get relaxed. I think I know ways to do that." He sang to her "You Are My Sunshine" a few times, but she kept looking at him in terror. Then Samuel picked up her crystal ball, shook it up so that the rainbow glitter rained down, and turned the key as tight as it would go. He put it back into her hand, and she stared into it as the music box played, "Somewhere Over the Rainbow." "That should do it."

So Doyle lowered his hands, like a conductor commanding a decrescendo. Sarah gently fell down on her back. Then with a quick movement with his right index finger, he caused her eyes to close.

"Good. Now, keep her like that. Don't make her feel too uncomfortable." They watched until Sarah started breathing evenly. "That's it. She's asleep." Samuel cautiously got up and shook Doyle's hand. "Thanks, Doyle. You can go."

"Glad to be of help." As he went up, he looked back. "Should I tell everybody that we found her?"

Samuel shook his head. "No."

"It might lighten the mood a little."

"Trust me, Doyle, I know what I'm doing. Now, go on. Tell them I'll be there shortly."

When Samuel got out of the cellar, he checked around and made sure Doyle was completely gone. Then he took a deep breath, closed both of his fists, and slammed them down. The doors of the cellar collapsed, and he could feel the rest of the cellar crumble. A tear trickled down his cheek as he released his hands. This time, he knew it was genuine. He wiped the tear away, regained his composure, and went back to the carnival.

* * *

Two birds landed on the curb of a neighborhood and then changed into two people. "This is Matt's house," Peter said.

"Matt Parkman, yes," Michael answered.

"How do you know he's here?"

"This was where he was last time. Something tells me he came back."

"What?"

Michael sighed. "It's hard to explain. Why don't you take his power next? Maybe then it will make more sense to you."

"Good idea." Peter knocked on the door. "Matt?" he called. He knocked a few times and called out his name a little louder.

Soon, Matt Parkman came and open the door. "Hey man! Sorry, I was just working downstairs."

"At least you're sober this time," Michael spoke up.

"Huh? Oh yeah! Hey. Uh, sorry about that."

"Am I welcome here?"

"Yeah, of course. Come on in."

Peter took Matt's hand to shake it, but then he paused. "Sylar is here."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about what you're thinking." He walked past Matt toward the basement.

"You here to take him? You can't just take him!"

"People will die, Matt! Sylar has to save him!"

"But he's a murderer!"

"Even so," Michael spoke up, "he's still entitled to–AAAAAAAAAAGH!" He saw it first, the brick wall, and Sylar lying unconscious behind it. He turned and looked at his host. "FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, PARKMAN!"

"YES, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! You think He'd want a monster like that out there?"

"He's a human being!"

"HE'S A MONSTER!"

"What did you do?" Peter asked.

"I went inside his head and trapped him in his worst nightmare. He'll never hurt anyone again."

"I have to bring him back."

He went straight to Sylar's body despite Matt's protests. Peter touched Sylar's head, and the moment he did, he fell over unconscious.

"Peter?" Michael called. He shook his friend and kept calling his name, but Peter stayed limp.

"It's no use," Matt said. "He's stuck in Sylar's nightmare, and I don't think there's a way to bring him back. I got to finish what I started." He grabbed a brick and continued to lay cement.

"How could you do this?"

"Is that part of his consciousness still in you?"

"Yes."

"Then you understand. There's no humanity left in him. He's all evil."

"No, he's not. He's starting to repent. He told me he came here to purge his soul."

"A hour ago, he threatened my wife's life! Does that strike you as someone who's penitent?"

"Perhaps that's all he knows. I don't see why all of you don't believe that he can change his ways, like there's no hope for him. It happened to Paul! He arranged for the torture and death of hundreds, maybe thousands of people. But he completely changed!"

"That was thousands of years ago, and not very many people talk about having an experience like that. If they do talk about meeting Jesus face to face, they're usually branded as nuts."

"What about Jeffrey Dahmer?"

"What about Jeffrey Dahmer?"

"He did worse things that Sylar ever did, unspeakable things, but someone saw hope even in him, studied the Bible with him in prison, and he became a Christian!"

Matt scoffed. "Do you honestly think we'll see Jeffrey Dahmer in Heaven?"

"Yes! That's what grace is all about. I mean, read Ezekiel!"

Matt stopped working, turned to Michael, and pointed his trowel at him. "Look, I don't have your faith, and I'm not willing to take a risk. So, I'm not going to stop."

"Very well," Michael said. "Then I will stay down here and pray until my legs go numb and I am unable to stand that Gabriel will come to his senses and his heart will turn again."

Matt sighed and went back to work. Michael got down on his knees, bowed his head, and started whispering.

* * *

Gabe followed Emma as she walked through the carnival. Everyone ran past them, looking so frightened and confused. Some people were badly injured. To Gabe, this was much more disturbing and disorienting than when all the bright lights were on and all the sound was everywhere.

A man who looked somewhat familiar approached Emma. "Samuel said you'd come. Thank goodness you're here. We need your help." He led them back to a tent which had all sorts of medical supplies and injured people sitting on cots. Among them was Samuel.

"Finally, there's a doctor in the house!" he said aloud while signing. Gabe came closer to see what this was about. Samuel's shirt was open, and he had a bad wound on his shoulder. As Samuel saw him, he smiled even bigger. "Gabriel! You always come at such surprising times. It's nice to see you here."

"What happened?" Emma asked.

"We were attacked."

"_Oui_, that's what your message said, but by whom?" Gabe asked.

Samuel signed again, "People who don't understand us. People who fear us."

"That doesn't tell me anything," Gabe said.

"It doesn't matter." He grabbed Emma's hand. "What matters is that you're here. You're not just gonna heal me, Emma. You're gonna help us make a new world for ourselves."

"New world?" she signed back.

"Yeah," he answered. "We'll show them, Emma. We'll show them how great we can be."

Gabe didn't like how vague he was. Besides, what he was proposing was his job. After Emma treated Samuel's wound and put his arm in a sling, Gabe cleared his throat impatiently.

"Well, I suppose that you do need to know more, Gabriel. Come with me." He signed to Emma, directing her to help another victim. They walked outside, and Samuel explained, "This evening, Claire sent word to us that her father was coming for me. She urged me to surrender peacefully so that no one would get hurt. I fully intended to, and I went out into the field to explain to everyone what I was doing, the same place Joseph once explained the truth about Sarah's origin. But then, Bennet opened fire on us, and . . . well, see for yourself."

He led Gabe to a trailer, opened the door, and Gabe saw Lydia's lifeless body on the couch. He started hyperventilating. Samuel went to the body and closed her eyes.

"Where's Sarah?" Gabe asked. "Is she alright?"

Samuel choked back tears. "Sarah ran away yesterday. Part of me thinks that's a blessing, that she wasn't involved in this. But there was a really bad earthquake yesterday that destroyed the nearest town. I fear that she might have been a casualty in that disaster."

Suddenly, there was an eddy of air. A man that Gabe saw in the vision, the man with the beard, Edgar, was at Lydia's side, holding her hand.

"Look what they've done," Samuel whispered, "the so-called 'normal' people."

Gabe turned to him in rage. "Don't call anyone that! Normalcy's an illusion! You of all people should know!"

"But I do. The sad fact is, no one else does. It's time we changed that, Gabriel. It's time we make people respect us, accept us. This is what you want, is it not? You can be a part of it."

But Gabe had a flashback to his nightmare–Samuel telling him that this was what he wanted. "I fear we have two very different plans of how to achieve that. I will not be part of anything until I know if Sarah is safe. I'm going out to look for her." He walked out before Samuel could stop him.

To be continued . . .


	15. Broken Heart

Chapter 15: Broken Heart

After a few hours, Michael fell asleep while he was praying. He woke in a bowed position on the concrete floor. His back really hurt. He looked up and saw someone standing at the brick wall. He first thought it was still Matt, but it was the Gabriel with glasses touching the bricks.

"Is he alright?" Michael asked.

"Yeah, he's fine," Gabriel answered. "He's dreaming. It's a very sad dream."

"How long does he have?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well, Matt buried him alive, just like an Edgar Allen Poe short story. He made it through the night. How long does he have?"

"Oh, don't worry about that. He's got Claire's power; he can't die."

"He can't? I didn't know that about him."

"Of course, that only means physically."

"Of course." Michael bowed his head again.

"You know what we really need? We need something to wake him up, get his attention, you know?"

"But that's why I'm praying."

"I know, but he's gotta have something to respond to."

"You mean a hymn?"

"Sure!" Michael pulled out the blue book and turned to the index, but Gabriel took it out of his hands. "Let me pick one this time. What's this one, 'Break My Heart'?" He turned to the page number. "Wow, this is perfect. This is exactly what he needs to hear." He handed the book back to Michael.

"I don't know that one."

"You can read the music."

"Actually . . . I can't."

"You can't read music?"

Michael shook his head.

"Well, how do you play the piano so well?"

"I memorized the notes to all of the keys and mimic the sounds of the pieces I heard."

"You do all that from memory?"

"It's complicated."

Gabriel took the book back. "I can read music." He sat down and began to sing:

"Break my heart, dear Lord.

Tear the barriers down . . ."

But in Sylar's dreamworld, Peter and Sylar couldn't hear him. When Peter discovered he couldn't use his powers to get Sylar out, he started calling for Michael, but no one answered. "He's not here, Peter," Sylar answered. "He's gone."

* * *

Gabe spent most of the night doing a thorough search of the carnival, just to make sure Sarah wasn't hiding or if she left some clues as to where she might be. He even talked to some of the carnies to see if they had any ideas. After turning over every stone and finding nothing, he went back to the medical tent. Emma was working on a new patient, and as Gabe came closer, he saw it was—

"_Femme fatalle!"_

Lauren smiled. "Well, not so _fatalle _now." She had a bad wound on her shoulder.

"How did that happen? Friendly fire?"

"Bennet didn't shoot me. He never fired his weapon. That's what I've been trying to tell her."

"Then who did?"

"I don't know."

They heard Samuel coming back and say, "I got to check in with the doc."

Lauren looked at her. "Samuel's coming! Don't tell him I'm here!" Emma went back.

Gabe whispered to Lauren, "Listen, did you see someone in the woods, a girl about 10-12 years of age wearing a red dress and lots of jewelry?"

Lauren shook her head. "I don't think so. Why?"

"I'm starting to wonder if Samuel was right, that she ran away and was killed in the earthquake."

"Did he happen to say what caused the earthquake?"

Gabriel's eyes widened in surprise. "You mean . . .?"

"Yeah, it was Samuel. His power amplifies with all these specials around."

Gabe frowned. "Disabled people don't like the term 'special,' the way it's used to describe them. I'm pretty sure superabled people will feel the same way."

"Oh, you want me to stop using it? Stop calling me _femme fatalle_, and we have a deal."

"What don't you like about it? I am calling you a strong woman. I thought it was a compliment."

"Well, it harkens too much to my time at the Company, a lot of which I'd rather forget."

Gabe sighed. "Alright, fine. But anyway, if I find out that Samuel is responsible for killing her, I am not going to be happy with him."

He left the tent, and just as he did Emma was coming out. He turned to her and started signing, "Emma, I need your help. There's a girl outside the carnival who is lost. She is autistic, like me, but she cannot talk. I am afraid that she is either dead or dying. I am trying to find her, but if she is in trouble, will you help me?"

"Of course."

"Good. Thank you."

* * *

"Aren't you going to accept that this is just a dream?" Peter asked.

"How can it be a dream?" Sylar asked. "What about books? How did Parkman make books, huh? How could I know all the words for _Pillars of the Earth _or _Catch-22_?"

"I don't know. Maybe you read them somewhere and it was buried in your subconscious."

"What about the Bible? Shortly after I came here, I started reading Genesis 1. This morning, I read Revelation 22. I've never read the Bible cover-to-cover before, and it took me all three years!"

"Look, I can't explain it. I don't know how this all works!"

Then, they had a talk, and Sylar admitted that he wanted to help Peter get out. Just then, they noticed a brick wall in front of them. "Where did that come from?" Sylar asked.

"It's the wall from Parkman's basement."

"What's it doing here?"

"This is our way out."

"What?"

"Don't you get it? We have to break through!" He immediately left and came back with a sledgehammer. "Might as well get started." He lifted up the hammer to take his first strike, but then he put it down and gave Sylar an annoyed look. "Very funny." Sylar returned him an odd look. He raised his hammer again, and struck a few times, but then he threw his hammer down and turned back at Sylar angrily. "Look, will you cut that out?!"

"Cut what out?"

"Your ventriloquism!"

"I'm not a ventriloquist! That's a parlor trick, not an ability!"

"Sylar, the wall is singing! And it's your voice!"

Sylar laughed hard. "Man, being stuck here is starting to really get to you, isn't it? You're already starting to crack."

"What, you can't hear it?"

"No, and it's stupidest thing I ever heard of. What's it singing, 'Humpty Dumpty'? 'Another Brick in the Wall'?"

"No, I don't recognize it. It sounds so muffled, I can't really make out the words." He put his ear against the wall. "It sounds like, 'Hard is hard, So, so weak, Weight of E, They cut so deep.' I don't know. The rest of it's too soft. It doesn't sound very encouraging." He gave him a suspicious look.

"I'm telling you, it's not me. I never heard of that song, and I don't sing!"

"Well, if it's you, or if it isn't, it's not going to stop me." Peter picked the sledgehammer back up and started pounding.

* * *

"I didn't know you were a doctor. I thought you were just a secretary," Gabe signed to Emma as they exited the carnival.

"I went to medical school, but I dropped out," Emma explained.

"Why?"

"I would rather not talk about it right now. I tried to reapply, but I was rejected."

Gabe thought for a moment, then he signed to her, "Would you like to go to Paris?"

She gave him a confused look. "Are you asking me out again?"

"No, no, no! My father is a professor at a prestigious university in Paris, France. It has a top-notch medical program. I had quite a few friends in college who were studying to be doctors. I'm sure if Papa wrote you a letter of recommendation, you could attend there."

"I will think about it," Emma signed, but she still looked uncertain.

"What's the matter?"

She shook her head sadly and signed, "I don't know French, neither the written language or the sign language."

"Oh," he answered. But then he signed back quickly. "I would be happy to be your interpreter, if you need one. At least for part of the time, maybe only in the summer. I will have to talk to my bosses about it."

Emma finally smiled, looked at him, and both signed and said aloud, "Thank you."

"_De rien."_

"I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"Oh, that means 'you're welcome,' between friends."

As they got deeper into the forest, Gabe turned more to the task at hand. He looked closely for details, any hints or clues, and called out Sarah's name. They walked quite a few minutes when Emma stopped and pointed.

"_Qu'est que-c'est_?" Gabe asked.

"The rocks," she answered. "They're glowing colors, very faint. Are they making noise?"

"I don't hear anything." Gabe came closer and put his ear on the ground near the rocks where Emma pointed. Very faintly, he could hear a music box playing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow." "It's Sarah's crystal ball!" He dug underneath the rocks but found nothing. "Oh, my goodness. Could this be a shallow grave? Could she be underneath here?"

"Maybe." Then she looked up and saw the cellar doors. "Gabe, look! Maybe we should check there."

Gabe ran over and started going down the stairs. Unfortunately, they weren't very stable, and he stumbled and fell the rest of the way down. Slowly, he got up, but then he saw a pair of legs in the sunlight. "Oh no!"

He ran toward the legs and dusted off the debris. It was Sarah's body. He held her and started to weep very loudly. Meanwhile, Emma came down more carefully. She went to Gabe, knelt next to the body, and put her fingers on the girl's neck. "She's alive!"

"_C'est impossible!"_

"I don't understand. Just give me some room. I know what to do."

Gabe backed away while Emma opened her med kit and went to work. Gabe wasn't sure what she did, but, miracle of miracles, in due time, Sarah opened her eyes.

Gabe stood and stared in wonder. "She is alive!" He watched as she breathed in and out, still unable to believe it. He then looked at Emma and quickly brought his right hand's fingers from his chin into his left hands open palm, and he did it over and over and over. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!" Then he kissed both of her cheeks.

Emma just looked stunned.

"Oh, that is the custom where I am from. I rarely do it."

"Oh yes, you are from France."

"I cannot really begin to convey my gratitude. That is probably the best way I know how."

But Emma looked at him seriously. "We are not finished yet. I need to examine her to see how badly she is hurt. If she has broken bones or is internally bleeding, we may need to get her to a hospital."

"Do you need privacy?"

"Please."

"She is autistic. She may not want you to touch her."

"Can you tell her that I have to?"

Gabe nodded and looked at Sarah. "Sarah, this is a doctor friend of mine. Her name is Emma. She wants to see where it hurts the worst. That means, she needs to touch you. I know it won't be comfortable, but she won't do anything to hurt you any worse. She wants to help make you better. Do you understand?"

"Mmm," Sarah answered.

"She'll take good care of you. I'll be here if you need me."

He walked to the back of the cellar, which was mostly rubble. Among the debris, however, he found Sarah's crystal ball, amazingly still in tact. He flipped it over and turned the key as tightly as it would go. The music box only played the verses of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow," not the bridge. It made Gabe sad because that was his favorite part. He always wanted to go to that place "where troubles melt like lemon drops." He started softly singing to himself the verses to calm him down. He wondered as he sang the second verse if this was the reason Sarah liked the song so much, that it said, "And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true."

A few minutes later, Emma tapped his shoulder. "The good news is, she'll live," Emma said. "I don't think she has a lot of serious bleeding. The bad news is quite a few of her bones are broken, particularly one in her leg."

"So she need to go to the hospital."

"I'll take care of her."

"First, I need to know something from her." He stood and approached the girl. "Sarah, I know this is difficult, but I must ask you something. Did Samuel do this to you? Did he try to kill you? I know you can't talk, but is there someway you can tell me now, _s'il vous plait?_" He knelt down to her.

Sarah looked up at him, then she raised her hand, reaching for the crystal ball. Gabe gave it to her. She put her hand on it, and it glowed red. Gabe understood what she wanted him to do. He put his hand on the crystal. Suddenly, images flooded his mind. He saw Samuel arguing with Joseph, and then a rock floated up and shot right into Joseph's neck. He saw Samuel do the same thing to Mohinder, but luckily he also very briefly saw how Hiro saved him. He saw Samuel destroy the town, the things he said just before he clenched his fist and brought all the buildings down. He saw him order Eli to open fire on the carnival and to kill Lydia. He watched as the massacre unfolded. And then he saw all of them at Central Park, Emma playing the cello until her fingers bled, and Samuel raising his fists above the crowd and—

"_NON!"_ He stood and hyperventilated.

"What is it, Gabe?" Emma asked aloud.

He looked at her and signed, "We have to go back to the carnival, now."

"What about Sarah?"

"Carry her. We'll get her to a hospital later. First, we have to stop this."

* * *

It was evening in Sylar's dream. Peter had given him a new copy of his favorite book and, eventually and somewhat grudgingly, his forgiveness. Then as Peter picked up his hammer, he said, "You know, one thing to your credit, I stopped thinking the singing is you."

"You still hear it?"

"All the time. It's one of the reasons I won't stop hitting. The noise drowns it out. I still can't figure out what he's singing. I can make out the word 'Lord' a couple of times, so maybe it's some sort of spiritual. But anyway, I usually hear it when you're not around, so it can't be you. I mean, obviously, you're not on the other side."

That gave Sylar an epiphany. "Maybe I am."

"What?"

"When you first came to rescue me, you said Michael came with you, right?"

"Yeah, but I kinda gave up on him."

"Michael has a part of my conscience with him. Actually, it is my conscience, my human side, my yin, whatever you want to call it. It's the part of me I have been suppressing for years. I think he's the one who's been singing to me this whole time."

"Then why is it I'm the only one who can hear him?"

"Oh, that's easy. Because for so long, I've been tuning him out. I saw him as just standing in my way of getting more power. His voice has become nothing but white noise in my mind. I wasn't listening. But I'm listening now."

Sylar leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. Then he could hear every word of that song as clear as crystal. It was another song about confession and repentance, asking God to break through a hard heart so that His glory could be seen. Sylar had never heard it before, but he felt like he had heard it all his life. At one point, when he heard the chorus again, he started singing an echo part:

Heart is hard,

Soul's so weak.

Ways of evil

Cut so deep.

Need you, Lord.

Come inside.

Gently break my heart.

"I thought you didn't sing," Peter observed.

But then, Sylar heard something else—dust falling, even a cracking noise. He looked back up. "Give me that sledgehammer again."

Peter did and lifted up his sledgehammer. They both took to the wall, and this time the bricks started to give way. They could see the brilliant light of the other side.

Peter opened his eyes and found himself in Matt's basement, sitting in front of a wall. He happened to notice Michael sitting cross-legged on the floor with his hands resting on his knees, palms upward. The hymnal was on the floor in front of him, and he sang, "My sin is great, but I can—"

"Michael!" Peter called.

Michael looked up. "Peter, you're awake!"

Just then, Peter heard movement. "Get back, get back!" He pushed Michael to the back of the room. The wall exploded, and Sylar got out.

He approached Michael. "How long has it been, really?"

"Probably about a day," Michael answered.

"It felt like years."

"Well, all this time, we've been fasting and praying and—"

"Singing," Peter said with him. "Yeah, we could hear that."

"My back and throat are so sore, and my mouth is dry, but I'm just so happy that we reached you."

"Me too," Sylar answered. "Thank you so much, Michael. It means a great deal to me." And then, he did something that surprised all of them, even himself. He opened up his arms, silently requesting for a hug. Michael came closer and let himself be hugged, but he didn't feel like hugging back. As soon as Sylar's arms wrapped around his shoulders, Michael felt that other presence leave him. Then, he pulled back.

"How do you feel?"

"Better. Whole. Well, almost. I guess there's one more thing I got to do."

"Let's go save Emma first," Peter said. They all went up the stairs, but there was someone standing at the top, blocking their exit.

"Sorry to break up the love fest, but I'm here to make sure that doesn't happen."

* * *

As Gabe got closer to the carnival, he broke into a run. He left Emma and Sarah well behind him, then he stood out in the entrance and called out, "Everyone, come to me!" He kept calling until most, if not all, of the carnies gathered around him. He heard them mumble in confusion, and he said somewhat nervously, "Uh, _bonjour_. _Je m'appelle Gabriel Bonhomme._ I don't know if you remember me. I was introduced to you the night of Thanksgiving, and I've been here a few times. I haven't really had much of a chance to meet all of you." He suddenly got back his confidence and shook his head. "But that doesn't matter now. I have important things to tell you. Listen to me! Samuel killed Joseph! Samuel killed Lydia! Samuel is going to kill thousands more people, and he's going to use you to do it!"

He heard more confused murmuring at this. Some people spoke up that government agents killed Joseph and Lydia and that Lydia's murderer was tied up in Samuel's trailer. Gabe spoke up even louder. "I'm telling you the truth! He's been lying to you!"

"Gabriel!" a voice called back. Samuel pushed himself to the front of the crowd. He looked at Gabe with absolute despair, as though he had been betrayed. "How can you say such things and break my heart?"

"Because they're true! I know now what you're doing!"

Samuel looked back at the rest of the crowd. "It's alright everyone. The sad fact of the matter is Gabriel is autistic. This is obviously a fabrication of a weak mind."

"Oh, so I'm crazy now? What about her?" He pointed back just as Emma started coming down the hill. Everyone gasped as they saw Sarah in her arms. Gabe meanwhile looked Sam in the eye and said, "She showed me everything, and she also showed me that you tried to kill her."

A lot of the crowd then gathered around Emma and reached for Sarah, talking all at once. Sarah turned away and hid her face in Emma's shirt. "She's very hurt!" Emma said loudly. "I have to take her to the hospital. Her leg is broken!"

One woman came forward. "Here, let me help." She put her hands on Sarah's leg until the child started wiggling it comfortably.

"You're a healer? Then why did Samuel need me?"

"Because I'm not all that good. All I can do is set bones."

Gabe smiled a little bit to see that Sarah was going to be OK, but then he looked back at Samuel seriously. The man got in closer and said softly, "Listen, I cannot say I do not regret what I've done or what we are about to do, but we need this. I need to show them who our enemy is. Didn't we agree that we needed liberation?"

"This isn't liberation. This is discrimination, and I won't stand for it!" Gabe answered. "Face it, Samuel, we're a minority. We rely on the ordinaries. Who's going to vote for our rights?"

"We don't have to be a minority. We don't have to settle. If we rise up, we won't be a minority much longer."

"What about what you were saying a few nights ago, eating at the same table? I thought you were more interested in saving lives than taking them!"

"Gabriel," Samuel said with a sad sigh and shaking his head, "that was a beautiful picture, but let's be realistic. That's an unobtainable ideal. Think about what happened to those Indians. They ended up being driven out of their land, made to live on reservations. That's not going to happen to us. I won't allow it."

"Samuel, there are other ways, more peaceful ways. Civil rights groups have done them for years with great success."

"Not as successful as you might think, and they take much too long. I want respect for us, and I want it now."

The more Gabe listened to him, the more dangerous Samuel seemed. He turned back to the crowd. "Listen to me! You don't have to do what Samuel tells you! You are oppressed! Liberate yourselves!"

At that, Doyle in the middle of the crowd made a sharp gesture to close Gabe's mouth, but in a flash of blue light, Gabe broke free from his power. "You can be free! There are other ways to do it! Petitions, protests, demonstrations, lobbying for important laws. Great people have done it for years: Susan B. Anthony, Martin Luther King, Ghandi, Harvy Milk, Ari Ne'eman, Amanda Baggs, Rizvan Khan, RIZVAN KHAN!"

But as he was talking, Doyle picked up a large pot and started beating it with a spoon. "NO! WE WON'T LISTEN TO THESE LIES!" he shouted. He kept yelling, and soon other people followed suit.

Gabe did his best to talk over them, but when they started crowding him continuing to shout and make other very loud noises, he held his ears, crumpled to his knees and screamed, "ARRETEZ!" (Stop it!) Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain on his head, and all went black.

To be continued . . .


	16. Dreams that You Dare to Dream

Chapter 16: Dreams that You Dare to Dream

First thing, he was aware of the sunlight behind his eyelids. He opened his eyes and wiped the gritty sleep away from the corners. For the first time in what seemed like ages, he felt no pain. The air felt very clean and fresh. Everything felt . . . right.

So Hiro sat up in the hospital bed, stretched his arms above his head, and took a deep breath of the clean air. "Ahhh," he sighed.

"Feeling better?"

The sudden voice startled Hiro. He looked up and saw Claude sitting in the chair next to the bed. Hiro was sure that was Ando was sitting. Well, it didn't matter.

"_Hai_," he nodded and stood up. "And it could not have been possible without you. You did an excellent job defending me. I never was certain of you before, but now I know. You are a good _oni_. _Domo arrigato."_ He started to bow low, but immediately Claude touched his shoulder, stopping him.

"Don't thank me just yet. I came to talk to you."

"What is it?"

"There's been some disputes about your trial, Hiro, long discussions with your Mum, your Dad, and . . . let's just say the higher-ups. They all decided that you're not going to get off that easy."

"Why not?"

Claude got up from his seat and looked Hiro right in the face. "A precious soul was lost. You admitted it yourself. I'm afraid that can't go overlooked."

Hiro looked down. "Oh. What's going to happen?"

"You'll have to make a sacrifice."

"What kind of sacrifice?"

But then, he only saw the sunlight behind his eyelids again. It was a dream. So once more, he rose from his bed. This time, Ando was sitting in the chair across from him. Ando told him that he was dreaming that they were working at Yamagato again.

"Life was simple once, was it?" Hiro said.

"It can be, again," Ando replied.

"I'd like that. I'd like that very much. I only wish it could happen."

"Why do you say that?"

"I had a dream too. An _oni _came to me with a message that I will have to make a sacrifice to atone for losing Hanami."

"Who?"

Hiro shook his head. "Never mind. I'm just worried about what I'll lose. Well, no time to think of that now." He stood and put on his jacket. "If we want our simple, happy life back, we have to fight for it."

"Are you sure you're well enough? And what of your brain surgery? Are you healed? Do you have full command of your powers back?"

Hiro closed his eyes, went back a few seconds, and heard Ando say that again. _"Hai_," Hiro answered, relieved that he didn't have to sacrifice his powers. He was prepared to fight evil again, and then the message came for him. He would learn very soon what he was to sacrifice.

* * *

Sylar, Peter, and Michael were surrounded by clones. "What now?" Sylar mumbled.

"Actually, that's pretty easy," Peter answered. "Michael!"

Michael looked around in fear, and he started glowing a dim green. He turned around, and every clone that met his gaze disappeared. Eventually, only the one on the stairs remained standing.

"He's the real one!" Peter said. "Now, take him out!"

"Me?" said Sylar. "How?"

Peter scoffed. "How?"

This hesitation started costing them. Eli punched Peter, hard. "You may have a way to resist my power, but I'm still strong enough to take you down."

"Sylar, do something!" Peter grunted.

"But you don't understand. The whole reason I came here was to put my powers to an end. I don't have them anymore."

"Yeah, you do! You just use them to break that wall!"

"Well, then I can't use them! Peter, it's the only way I can be human, the only way I can stop myself from being a killer anymore!"

"No, Gabriel," Michael answered. "Those powers are a gift from God!"

"Not the way I got them."

"Still, you have them. Think about the parable of the talents. You can't just leave them buried in the sand! You have to use them for His glory!"

"What about helping Peter?"

"Do unto others–"

Sylar quickly moved his hand down, and Eli smashed his head on the hard floor. His eyes closed. "He's not dead, is he?"

Peter knelt over Eli. "No, he's got a pulse. I think you just knocked him out."

"So now what?"

"Now, we need Matt."

* * *

He saw dozens of images flash before his eyes, all so quick he couldn't really take them in. It all seemed to translate to mayhem, chaos, and disaster. All the while, he could hear on top of everything some inspirational speech from Samuel. It sounded like it was trying to be an inspirational speech, but all he heard was asserting superiority, discrimination, reasoning for . . . eugenics.

When Gabe opened his eyes, he found himself on the cold floor of a dimly lit room. As he pushed himself up, he could tell that the light was reflecting off of some glassy surfaces. He was in the Hall of Mirrors, but it wasn't bright enough to see his reflection. He heard a sound. "_Allo? _Someone here?"

He followed the noise and found Sarah sitting on the floor, crying. She was holding something, or at least that was how it looked. She had her hands cradled up to her chest, and she was rocking.

"Sarah. You gave me that dream, didn't you? Or it was from you. You're afraid about what's going to happen tonight, aren't you?"

She looked at him and handed him what she was holding–a note with Gabriel's name on it. Gabe opened it up and read:

"I am truly sorry that you do not wish to join us. Know that I have every respect for the way you propose to do things, but I lack the patience. Something must be done. I spared your life, though believe me, after the terrible things you accused me of, most of the members of my family would consider that generous. However, I cannot allow you to be free until this is over. I left Sarah with you because I fear she might reveal things that will put this whole plan in jeopardy. I would have left Emma, but I need her. In fact, she's probably the most important part. If you have a change of heart, I will allow you to be part of this regime when this is over. Otherwise, I will let you go and hope that your way will lead to success. Again, I express my deepest regret that we could not work this out. Samuel"

Gabe sighed and leaned back against a mirror after he read this note, wondering what to do. He knew the trick to getting out of a house of mirrors was to follow the patterns on the floor. There were usually something like footprints leading you to the exit. He found a similar pattern, but there was no exit at the end. Gabe shook the mirror blocking the way out. It seemed to be a locked door. He thought back through what he could remember of Sarah's dream, and he got an idea.

"All is not lost, Sarah. I think I know what to do to get us out of here and to stop what Samuel is doing. But I need your help. I need you to give me a dream."

Sarah moaned and held something out. It was a wooden platform with small shards of glass. Her hand was badly cut. Gabe understood. Someone smashed her crystal ball.

"It's alright, Sarah. We can use the mirrors." He put his hand on one of the glass panels. "Now, if you let me have your power, I know what we need to dream about, but we must do it right away."

Sarah got up and put her hand on the glass.

* * *

Matt was unwilling to let him go. Michael was amazed at the hardness of his heart. Peter was clearly impatient, especially when he learned from reading Eli's mind what Samuel was going to do. Sylar was just willing to clear his name.

"I repented!" he insisted.

"Oh yeah, during the nightmare!" Matt said. "Oh right, 'cause that lasted all of, what, a couple of hours?"

"Not to us, Matt. It was five years!" Peter said.

"What does it matter how long it took?" Michael spoke up. "The Spirit moves in mysterious ways. The important thing is it happened!"

"How can you be sure?" Matt said. "We all know how Sylar duped you."

"I don't expect you to understand what happened in that nightmare," Sylar said. "I don't expect you to forgive me."

"Good, 'cause that will never happen!"

"I've done so much wrong to so many people. Just give me a chance to redeem myself."

"He needs that chance, Parkman," Michael said. "We all do."

"Matt, I've been inside of your head as well as his, so I have a pretty good idea of what it takes to be a good person. Go inside mine, and you make the call."

Matt, kinda reluctantly, started staring Sylar down. Then he looked up with a questioning look.

"You see it?" Sylar pointed up to his temple. "Right here."

"No, what I saw was inside your twisted mind," Matt answered. "It wasn't your heart."

"Then read my mind," Michael said.

Matt scoffed. "No need. I have a pretty good idea what's in there."

"Just one quick glance. I'll drop my defenses. I just want to show you something."

So, Matt stared him down. Michael could almost feel him going through his mind. Then Matt shook his head. "So, what was that supposed to show me?"

"Don't you remember? I had part of his consciousness too. I had his conscience, his good side, his . . . heart. It's not there anymore. It's where it belongs, it's rightful owner."

"You need to trust us, Matt," Peter said.

"Fine. Just get out of my house," Matt said. So they did.

* * *

"The world needs to meet us, Edgar. This is the biggest show we've ever done," Samuel said. "Tonight changes everything, for all of us. Then again, in reality, this is just a sneak preview, a dress rehearsal. The main attraction is coming soon to Washington, D. C."

"How come you didn't tell anyone else that?" Edgar asked.

"Because it's up to Gabriel. It's his affair."

"Isn't that the kid you locked up in the Hall of Mirrors? What makes you think he'll go along with it?"

"It's going to happen, Edgar. Sarah foretold it. She's rarely ever wrong; you know that."

"Funny. I always thought that she showed what could happen, given the quality of a person's heart, not exactly what will happen."

Samuel flashed an angry look at him. "You're wrong. You don't know her like I do."

"Is that why you tried to kill her?"

Samuel went out angrily.

* * *

The door to the S.S.A.G. slammed open, and Gabe ran through it with Sarah by his side. Lyddie looked up and smiled from her desk. "Hi, Gabriel!"

"Lyddie," Gabe said in between gasps of air. "It's good to see you."

"Really?" she asked with some intrigued.

"_Oui _. . . in our world . . . you just died."

"Oh that's–" She stood up and gasped in horror. "My goodness, look at you! What have you gotten into?" She came around the desk and knelt down to Sarah. "Is there something you want to tell me, Sweetheart?"

Sarah put her hand on Lydia's cheek.

Almost a second later, Lydia backed away. "Sam!" she called. "You better come here!"

Gabe heard feet running down the hall, and Sam appeared in the hallway. "Oh, Sarah! What's happened to you?" He got down on his knees and inspected the tears in her dress. Then he looked at Lyddie and asked, "Did she run away again?"

"No. Well, yes, but . . ." She looked up at Gabe. "You explain."

"I guess she's your adopted daughter here?" Gabe asked.

"Not officially, yet," he answered. "She was Joseph's. Since the incident, she's been staying with Aunt Vanessa, trying to get used to a new environment. Did you find her?"

"You don't understand. She's from my side. Look, we need to talk to you, and Sy–uh, I mean Gabriel, the other one."

"Gabriel's in an important meeting right now," Lyddie said. "Can you hold on a few minutes?"

"Actually, _non_, we can't."

"Well, it does concern you, I believe," Sam spoke up.

"What do you mean?" Lyddie asked.

"Don't you remember what Gabe told us about this kid? His sister" (he jerked his head back) "is his mother" (he pointed at Gabe).

"He's talking to mama?" Gabe asked.

"Not exactly," Lyddie said.

Gabe ran to Sylar's office and knocked on the door. It opened, and Sylar's doubled looked out. "Hey, Same Name! Come in! We were just talking about you." He opened the door a little wider, and Gabe saw his guest.

"Dr. Bell?"

"You don't have to be so formal, kid. You can call him Belly, or William if you'd like."

"I'd prefer William," Dr. Bell answered.

"What's going on?" Gabe asked.

"Well, I got to thinking about it, and I think that the destruction of a national capital does warrant a visit. It would give me a good chance to help someone, like we talked about. So I called Belly over and talk about how I can make it."

"I'm sorry, Gabriel," Dr. Bell said looking at him. "It's too dangerous. Walter and I have caused a great deal of damage by our breaks across dimension borders."

"But-but-but he has to! And he can! That's the reason Sarah and I came!"

"Sarah?" Sylar asked.

"Yes, the Sarah from my side. She can make people have dreams, real dreams, and she can take them places in their dreams. Sy–Gabriel, I need your help. We're trapped. Sam's double locked us in a hall of mirrors. We can't get out, and we have to get out. He's going to kill thousands of people in New York, and we have to stop them! And after I saw what Sarah showed me, I think I need both you and Sam."

"But how are we going to do it? If Belly won't tell me how to open the gate, how will we go to the other side?"

"The same way I did. Sarah gives the two of you a dream that sends you to our world. It may be hard for her since she's doing the same for me so it's like a dream within a dream, but I bet she can do it!"

Sylar turned back to Dr. Bell. "Does that sound safe to you?"

"It does. Though I must warn you, there are precautions you will need to take. You cannot meet your doppelgangers. According to physics, no two bodies can occupy the same space at the same time."

"I think when physics gets twisted, it's not as bad as you think," Gabe said. "I've seen time travelers interact with the past and future selves, and the world didn't end."

"Even so, I wouldn't risk it, especially when the borders are so delicate."

"Listen, we don't have much time to waste. Are you going to do it?"

"Absolutely," Sylar nodded.

"Then come on!" They went back to the lobby. "Sam, we–"

"I know!" Sam answered. "Lyddie told me everything." He had a mischievous grin. "This sounds like fun."

"Sarah's going to need a crystal ball or a snow globe or something. She's used to working with one."

"Oh, I got one. Bought it for her birthday." He went back into another room and came back with a snow globe.

"Do you mind if she takes it? The one she used was smashed."

"No. I can always buy another one."

"Alright. Everyone, put your hands on the crystal." So they did.

The next moment, they found themselves all in the House of Mirrors. "First of all, you need to help us get out," Gabe said.

"That's easy," Sylar said. "Now, it's going to involve a lot of broken glass, so everyone duck and cover." Gabe bowed his head and covered his ears. Still, he could hear a loud shatter, and after a few minutes he looked up and saw that every mirror was broken.

"Whoa, Gabe, I never saw you do that," Sam said.

"It's the power I got from observing Brian Davis," Sylar said sadly. "I don't like to use it unless I absolutely have to."

"No time to think about that now," Gabe said. _"On y va_." (Let's go.)

* * *

As Peter, Michael, and Sylar (from this universe) came closer to Central Park, they saw the bright lights and heard the haunting music from Emma's cello. Peter stopped. "The dream!" he said aloud. "All these people, they're all here, like lambs to the slaughter."

"Or moths to a flame," Michael added nodding.

"It's not going to happen, Peter," Sylar answered.

Peter slowly nodded. "Right. Because we're gonna fight fire with fire, or in this case, music with music."

"What?" Michael and Sylar said together.

Peter grabbed a limb off a tree. "Follow me," he said, then ran over to a bridge. Sylar and Michael ran after him, then as he reached the middle of the bridge, the highest point, he turned back. "Quick Michael, turn this into a piano." Michael did. "Now, I need you to play."

"What would you like me to play?"

"Anything! But it has to be loud, and it has to be passionate. I know, play that piece you played that other night, 'Evening Harmony.'"

"Peter, what are you doing?" Sylar asked.

"He may not exactly have Emma's power, but his skill alone may attract people to him. It did to me when I first met him. Anyone gathering around him won't go into the carnival and won't add to Samuel's strength."

Michael had already started playing, but Sylar turned around. "Wait a minute, stop, stop."

"What is it?"

"They won't come if it's a piece of music they don't know. You know, there was this study when a world famous violinist played in Grand Central Station, and few people stopped to listen to him. Personally, I think part of the problem was that he wasn't playing music that was familiar. Let's see, Michael, do you 'Linus and Lucy'?"

"I think so," Michael said.

Peter shook his head. "That's way too lighthearted."

"OK, how about 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow.'"

"I think I can do that."

"Tell you what, do both kinds of music," Peter said. "Just anything to get people's attention and keep them from going into the carnival. Just play your heart out."

"No problem." He put his hands on the keys and started playing a different tune entirely.

"Now, let's go."

"You find Samuel. I'll save them," Sylar said. Peter stared at him, but Sylar grinned. "Peter, the dream said I save her. Trust me." So they split up.

* * *

At one point, Sarah started running ahead of everyone. Gabe followed her and called out, "Sarah, where are you going?" He looked back at Sylar and Sam. "What is she doing?"

"She probably knows something we don't!" Sam answered.

Eventually, she stopped on a pile of dirt, and they found company. "_Femme fa_–I mean, Mademoiselle Gilmore! What are you doing here?"

"Gabe. Claire and Noah are trapped underground," Lauren answered. "Samuel buried them in his trailer. I just called for help."

"Sounds like your moment to shine," Sylar said to Sam.

"Yeah, sounds it."

Lauren turned around and saw them. "What the–?"

"Don't worry, they're on our side," Gabe said.

"Everyone stand back!" Sam ordered.

In the trailer, Noah and Claire were both gasping for air. Claire was weeping and telling her father that she loved him. He answered, "I love you too, Claire-Bear, so I want you to promise me something–that you'll hide."

"What?" Claire answered.

"The world doesn't need to know about you. You can stay in. You can blend in. You can pass. You know how to do it."

"But Dad–"

"No 'buts,' Claire. I want you to promise me that you'll stay hidden, please. It's my dying wish, Claire." He nodded off. Claire wept and pleaded, but he didn't respond. So she dug into the wall again, and the whole room shifted so much that she fell to the ground. The movement shook Noah awake. He said rather deliriously, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say we were going up."

But Claire recognized the feeling. It was just like being in an elevator, and . . . "We ARE going up! How is that possible?"

Soon, daylight flooded in the window, and the movement stopped. Someone opened the door. "Everybody OK in there?"

Claire recognized that voice and stood up defiantly. "Sylar! What are you doing here?"

He laughed and answered, "I never understand why he named himself after a watch."

"Claire, that's not Sylar," Noah gasped. "That's Gabriel, Gabriel Gray. He's different. How did you get here?"

"Long story. You don't look good."

"He just needs some air," Claire said. Then she saw Sam in the doorway. "You too?!"

He gave a small smile at her. "You're looking lovely as always, Clara."

"That's not my name!"

"Well, that's the thanks I get."

"You saved my life," Noah said. "I guess I owe you one."

"Oh, forget it."

As soon as they were up to it, Noah and Claire got out of the trailer and greeted the others. They explained the situation. Lauren called a copter from Washington, and Gabe called Agent Broyles. Lauren's copter got there first. They all boarded.

"So, what should we do when we get down there?" Gabe asked.

"Well, let's see," Noah said. "Of course, we all need to make sure that Samuel is stopped."

"I want another chance to reason with him."

"At this point, Gabe, I don't think that will be of any use."

"Still, he's my biggest support. We want the same thing. We just want it different ways. I need to make him see that it would be better to do this peacefully."

"Well, you can try. The other thing we need to do is to get the people with special powers away from him. And you know what? That may be a good place for you to come in." He pointed to Sam. "You probably know all these people by name. All you got to do is tell them to move their acts to the edge of the park. They'll think it's Samuel and do what you say."

"You'll probably have to take off your _chapeau," _Gabe said.

"Uh . . . must I?" Sam said nervously. Sylar began to giggle.

"Well, Samuel doesn't wear a hat."

But Claire picked up on the clues a little better. "Are you bald?"

"It's just thinning a bit," Sam shrugged. "It's not really performance shape. Not like twenty years ago, it was about shoulder length."

"He could probably keep his hat on," Noah said.

"Oh, but you will need to hold your arm funny, like it's in a sling," Claire said.

Sam nodded. "I can do that."

"What about me?" Sylar asked.

There was a pause, then Gabe raised his hand. "Emma!"

"What about her?" Noah asked.

"Samuel said that Emma was the most important part. He's using her to lure people into the carnival with her music. Maybe you can go free her!"

Sylar nodded, "OK."

"And you, Claire, try to get all the performers Sam doesn't reach and tell them what he's doing. And I'll look for Samuel, try to take him out if Gabe doesn't get to him before things get bad. Sound like a plan?" Everyone nodded. "Good." He got out his cell phone. "I'm going to call Hiro. We can use his help, too."

As the spy talked on his cell phone, Claire looked closely at Sam. "So in this other world, you guys are in a group like what Gabe's putting together, right?"

"That's right," Sylar nodded.

"So do they magnify your powers, just like your double?"

Sam nodded slowly. "It feels quite intimidating sometimes, all that power welled up inside me."

"Has anything happened like this?"

Sam crossed his arms and shook his head.

"Why not?"

"I know my limits. Even though I feel this strength, I restrain it because I know it's dangerous. Clara, I don't want to hurt a soul."

"I wish he saw it your way."

* * *

Hiro was busy having a long talk with a much older Charlie. He had convinced himself, and he hoped her as well, that he could change everything and put it back the way it was. But then he was introduced to a granddaughter, Sally. She ran out to get her parents, and Charlie explained that she had lived a wonderful life. And she said, "If I were to go back now and lead a different life, what would happen to all of that? What would happen to Sally?"

Hiro looked down with regret and mumbled in Japanese, "She'd be where Hanami is now."

He forgot that Charlie knew Japanese, and she replied, "Who is Hanami?"

"Excuse me," Hiro said. He went outside and stood alone. He put his head one the wall and said mournfully, "So, this is my sacrifice."

"You sure about that?" a voice said next to him. Startled, Hiro looked beside him and saw Claude.

"_Hai._ It is over. The damsel has found her happy ending. My hero's journey has come to an end. I have no more quests!"

Claude shook his head. "You'll get over her. Time heals all wounds, does it not?"

"So, I am not to make a sacrifice?"

"Oh, no, no. It's still required of you. It's just been my understanding that this is more of a . . . lifelong thing."

"What are you going to take from me? My powers? My friend Ando?"

"You'll see."

"Hiro!" Ando called. Hiro went over to him. "I just heard from Noah Bennet. He needs us, now. He found the Butterfly Man you talked about in Central Park. Destiny calls."

Hiro took one last look at Charlie through the blinds, then held Ando's shoulder. "Destiny calls."

* * *

Gabe and Sarah pushed through the spectators until they made it to the main tent. Samuel found them first. "Well, well, well. You're smarter than what I took you for, Gabriel. You found your way out of a locked maze."

"I had some help from my friends," Gabe replied.

"Have you seen the place? Just look." He opened the tent flap. "Our secret will soon be revealed. No more hiding who we are. We will be respected, liberated at last. The world's about to turn upside down."

"Do you know what I see when I look out there? Children! Hundreds, maybe thousands, of innocent children!"

Samuel chuckled. "Gabriel, children are like lion cubs. They're cute now, but they grow up."

"That's a horrible thing to say! How dare you?"

"Oh, I dare say a lot of things. In fact, if you think of it, children are far from innocent, what with there taunting and bullying of anyone different than they are. They're worse than adults sometimes."

"They don't know any better. They're just repeating their parents. Oh, Samuel, what can I tell you to make you stop this? How can I show you that there's another way? How can I show you that you could be wrong?"

"I could be, but I should be right. You just don't understand, Gabriel." He paused and then looked at him slyly. "No, wait, you do. Gabriel, how do you feel when people stare at you, when they tell you that you can't be autistic, that you have to be . . . normal?"

Gabe winced.

"See, that says it all. I know you hate that word because when you act normal, you're not yourself. You can't realize your full potential, your strengths and your weaknesses. You can't be you. That's how I feel. I never realized my full potential. Joseph wouldn't let me. He . . . made me normal. Can't you tell me that you know how that feels?"

Gabe fought to find something to say. Finally, as Samuel turned away from him, he blurted out, "I know my limits!" Samuel turned back to him. "There's some things I had to learn how to do. When I was young, I had to learn things to keep from hurting others or myself. I mean, there are parts of the disability rights movement that I don't understand. Like some people with bipolar disorder and schizophrenia say that they would rather go without their medication because they enjoy the state of madness. They call it Mad Pride. But when they go off their medication, they can become dangerous to themselves and others. They can even commit suicide! You know that saying that there can be too much of a good thing? That might be one of these things! You need to learn control!"

Samuel just shook his head sadly. "Gabriel . . . I believe we'll have to agree to disagree, for now. One day, we will be allies again. Let us not forget Washington." He stroked the top of Sarah's head, as though she were a dog, before she could stop him or move. And he walked away.

"Samuel!" Gabe yelled out. He turned back. "If you even try to do what you're doing tonight, I'll . . . I'll show you the force that can break a compass!"

Samuel just smirked at him and turned away.

* * *

The Sylar from the other universe followed the mysterious music in the air to a tent. He found Emma playing the cello. "Emma?" he asked. He hadn't seen her before.

"Another one?" a voice said behind him. Suddenly, Sylar felt himself freeze and his limbs move on their own accord. He then saw a big man wearing a light blue tux. "What is this? You got a twin, or am I seeing double?"

He turned around and saw someone completely identical standing next to him in the same stance. "The Watch, I presume."

"Say what?" Sylar from this universe said.

"Sylar?" he giggled. "Come on, man, what were you thinking?" He watched Doyle closely. "Oh, that's so crude. You're controlling her? That's not what to do with that power!"

"Don't tell me what to do," Doyle answered. "Besides, what else can I do?"

"I know someone with that power, where I'm from. He's a physical therapist and a fitness trainer. He uses it to correct posture, train muscles, and help people with yoga and pilates. You might want to try it. He's a . . . lot . . . skinnier than you."

"Alright, that's enough out of you. Zip it!" He made a zip motion with his fingers, and Gabriel's lips were sealed shut.

Just over the two Sylars' shoulders, Emma could see brilliant colors on the horizon. It was almost like the aurora borealis brightening the sky. She knew it was beautiful music, and it gave her hope. The Sylar from this universe requested for her to be released. He distracted Doyle long enough to use the destructive side of her power. She played one note powerfully and sent her captor flying. Then both Sylars were freed.

"Are you OK?" Sylar asked.

Emma nodded.

Gabriel went closer to her. "Oh, your fingers! Let me take care of those. I got some bandages."

"It's OK. I'm a doctor," she said aloud.

He recognized that accent. "You're deaf?"

She nodded.

"Well, that just adds insults to injury. It's like he kicked you in the mouth."

She read his lips and laughed a little bit.

Then, he turned to the other Sylar who was holding a death grip on Doyle. "That's not you!" Doyle gasped. "You're like me!"

"No," Sylar answered. "I'm a hero!"

"So, what are you gonna do?" Gabriel asked. "You're not gonna kill him, are you?"

Sylar turned back to him. "Give a reason why I should let him live."

"He's not broken. I live by an old saying: if something's not broken, it can be useful."

Sylar shook his head. "I don't think he's going to be teaching pilates anytime soon."

"Who's to say? Stranger things have happened."

"So what should we do?"

* * *

Sam had successfully a few people, mostly face painters and balloon artists, to move to the edge of the park. It seemed like most everybody else was behind the scenes somewhere. Then he saw a familiar face moving through the crowd. "Eli!" he called. "There you are! Uh, you know, I have an idea. There's this stream right over there with a bridge over it. I think some people will really get a kick of your reflection routine if you–"

But Eli stopped him by hitting his shoulder. "I have a mission."

"Oh, are you a clone? Where's Eli 1?"

"It's just me, and I have a mission. You're in the way." He pushed Samuel aside.

Right then, he was grabbed from behind and saw a knife blade around his neck. He could see out of the corner of his eye who just caught him. "Edge, my man! Uh, you know, if you did your juggling act at the park entrance–"

"Save your breath," Edgar said in his ear. "I know you're an impostor. Since when did Samuel Sullivan wear a hat?"

"Edgar, I bear you no ill will. I'm trying to keep the place safe."

"I know. Bennet told me about you. I think I know how to use you."

"He already gave me a plan!"

"It's not going to work. Too many people are faithful to Samuel." Then he said in a whisper, "But if anyone can get into his head, it's you."

* * *

Gabe found Claire talking to a large crowd of performers backstage. She was basically telling them what he told her the day before, and like with him they didn't believe her. Samuel was there, denying everything she said. When she announced that he killed Lydia, he grabbed her arm and pulled her down. At that point, Gabe took her place.

"Don't you see? This is what I told you yesterday, actually, what we told you." He brought Sarah up with him. "What more can we say to convince you? Samuel's out of control, and he's digging your graves! Save yourselves! Liberate yourselves!"

"You think they're going to believe you over me?" Samuel asked. "They'd be lost without me! There's not one person here who thinks I'm capable of murdering my own brother!"

"But there is! She's seen it! And she can make everybody see it!"

"And it will be a lie! Just a bad dream!"

"I thought you told me she's rarely ever wrong."

When that seemed lost, Edgar, Noah, and Eli all came forward to confirm further what the two young people were saying. Together, they finally convinced the people to walk away. Gabe and Sarah stayed behind.

"Run as fast as you can!" Samuel yelled at them. "You'll never get far enough!"

Gabe could feel his heart beating in his throat, he was so afraid.

Samuel went out on the stage and screamed, "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, DO YOU WANNA SEE A SHOW?!" The crowd cheered excitedly

"This is it," Gabe whispered. He knelt down to Sarah. "Hold my hands."

Sarah looked at him in terror.

"You have to do it, Sarah. It's the only way. We need to show them what we're made of. Our real power, our resistance, must be revealed."

"WELL, THIS IS THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH!" Samuel cried out. Then, the earth started to move.

"NOW!"

Sarah grabbed both of his hands, and a brilliant purple light shined around both of them. It surrounded the stage, and the earthquake lessened. They came forward so that they were revealed. Samuel turned around and looked at both of them. Gabe looked back defiantly. "You won't hurt them!"

"Try and stop me!"

Gabe slowly saw that he was right. Since it was only two of them and not the full circle, Samuel was too strong. But at least he was not as powerful as he could have been. And then, suddenly, Sarah let go and started to run away. Gabe chased after her. "Sarah? Sarah! Where are you going? What are you do–" But as the earthquake was growing worse, he fell down and a pole fell on top of him.

Suddenly, Samuel was knocked off his feet into the tent. Sam was standing over him with his fists clenched. "Looks like there's only one person who can stop you–me."

"And who are you?" Samuel asked.

"I'm you, of course, but different. Different circumstance, different time. It's all very complicated, but it's enough for you to know that you don't need to do this!" He pushed Samuel back with seismic activity.

Samuel held it back. "Then you of all people know that they should fear us!"

"Why?"

"Because that's the only way that they'll respect us! If you're me, you know how Joseph destroyed your potential, kept you down! You know what it's like to live in his shadow!"

"Joseph didn't keep me down! He built me up! He taught me that people make me strong. They don't strengthen my power, they strengthen my soul! And that's why I won't hurt them for nothin'!"

Samuel heaved the power forward, and Sam disappeared. Peter then showed up and took his place.

Hiro came on the scene, and Claire ordered him to teleport everyone out. As Hiro wondered how he could do that, suddenly a girl ran straight toward him and hugged him around his waist. He looked down and saw her dark hair, and his heart skipped a beat. "Hanami?"

She looked up at him with her mysterious, blue eyes. Immediately, Hiro's mind flooded with images of her past. It was like he saw her whole life in a few seconds. He felt hands grasping his, but they felt distant. Then he heard Ando's voice count to three and felt his power surge into him. Very quickly, he teleported everyone out. And the earthquake stopped.

* * *

Gabe came to about fifteen minutes later. The first thing he saw was Emma smiling at him. "Do not worry. You are going to be alright," she signed to him. "Flo came back and fixed your bones."

"Thank you," he signed. He got up. "Are you alright?"

"I am just glad it is over," she signed with a smile. Then she moved up closer to him. "Thank your father for me. He helped break me free."

"OK," he signed. And she walked on.

"Hey, there you are!" Gabe turned around and saw Claire looking at him. "Come here. I want to tell you something."

He came toward her. _"Qu'est-que c'est?"_ (What is it?)

"Gabe, I just want to say . . . you were right. You were right all along. There is no such thing as normal."

"What brought that on? I thought after all this that you would swear off this side of you forever."

"When I was buried, in the trailer, with Dad, he told me that he wanted me to hide, to . . . pass. And I realized what he was saying was that I should ashamed of who I am. But why should I be? It kinda freaks me out, but all in all, it's a very useful power. And I was just thinking of your attitude toward this whole thing, which I always thought was a bit extremist, but it really makes sense now. It makes me feel . . . free. And I'm so sorry about the way I've treated you in the past when you talked about advocacy and liberation. I just want to thank you."

And then he face came closer, and she parted her lips.

But Gabe backed away. "Whoa! Claire, we're related!"

"I told you, we're third cousins! That's pretty distant."

"I wouldn't feel comfortable with it."

"Alright then, what can I do to thank you?"

"Join my group?"

She grinned. "You got it!"

"Though I don't know how successful it will be now. The worst thing about all this is that I lost my biggest supporter."

"Then I'll do it and then some."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll see." She ran off.

Then Gabe saw Hiro and Ando walking together, and Sarah was holding Hiro's hand. Gabe ran to them. "So, that's where she went! That's strange." He looked up at Hiro. "She really likes you."

Hiro looked at him resolutely. "I think . . . I am going to adopt her."

Ando looked at him in shock. "What?"

"She has nowhere else to go. She has no parents. The Butterfly Man used to take care of her, but he's gone now."

"How do you know this?" Gabe asked.

"She showed me. She showed me everything. I think she knows that I am destined to take care of her as penance for what I did to Hanami."

Gabe nodded. "I think she's a good match for you, Hiro. She can show you things in the future and you can change them. And believe me, you'll have to change anything she'll show you."

Gabe didn't notice the murmurs around him, people whispering. Lauren rushed to Noah's side. "What is she doing?" she asked.

"Breaking my heart," he answered.

But after a moment, someone came to his side and said, "Sometimes your heart needs to be broken in order to grow." Noah looked beside him and saw Michael standing beside him looking up at the Ferris wheel.

Then as Peter and Sylar walked side by side and Sylar talked about how saving Emma somehow felt good, Michael ran up to him. "Hey, you did a great job," Peter told him. "Emma said you were a major reason she was able to break free."

Sylar smiled. "I believe we have some unfinished business."

"Yes, we do." He came closer to Sylar and said, "Do you believe that Jesus is the Son of God and that He alone can save you from your sins?"

"With all my heart, yes."

Michael put his hand on Sylar's shoulder. "This is a wonderful day. The angels rejoice. Now, let's go find water." He and Sylar walked off together.

Peter joined Gabe. "Do you know where your friends went?" he asked.

"They probably woke up on the other side. Where's Papa going?"

"To baptize Sylar."

"No way!"

Peter shrugged. "That's what he's doing. Now, do you know what she's doing?"

For the first time, Gabe looked up and saw Claire climbing the Ferris wheel. His eyes grew wide with wonder, and a large smile crossed his face. "_Oui_. I know exactly what she's doing. SHE'S LIBERATING US!"

And he ran toward the Ferris wheel, not to catch her but to be there when she fell.

End of Volume IV


End file.
